


Manly Wager

by PrincessDesire



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Romance, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-02 00:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 39,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2792495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessDesire/pseuds/PrincessDesire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A wager over a game of pool turns Hank and Logan's friendship into something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The characters and settings are completely mishmashed from movieverse, comicverse, and cartoonverse. I basically chose the version of each character I thought worked best with the story.
> 
> Somehow I managed to upload this incorrectly last year. I completely missed a chapter in the upload process. It's up now and probably a lot less confusing!

           

Hank dragged his glasses down his nose to exaggerate his look of incredulity. “For having extraordinary healing abilities, you sure end up here with me more than the others.”

The sterile room was dimly lit by one single lamp. It was late at night and Hank was the only one still around the infirmary. Logan, sitting atop the examination table, smirked at his friend. “You are one lucky furball then.”

Hank chuckled briefly, an indicator of impending sarcasm. “Your visits are like little winning lottery tickets.”

“Yeah well, I don’t need medical attention. As usual. These kids think just because I get knocked unconscious by a car door to the head that I need to come and see your big blue ass.” With a shrug of his muscular shoulders, he added, “I don’t know why they always carry me here.”

Hank looked surprised. “A car door?”

“At least it wasn’t a car this time.” Logan’s eyes closed as he remembered the specific incident of which he was speaking. “That wasn’t fun.”

Setting down the clipboard that he had been holding, Hank moved closer towards his patient. He peered down at Logan’s forehead. “There’s still a dent.” Logan felt self-conscious about the examination. He squinted one eye at the doctor. “Oh wait, that’s just how your head is shaped.”

“Are you sure you want to cross the whole ugly-looking line? Cause personally, I think that could go badly for you.” His eyes flashed a challenge at Hank. It was late and he wanted to head to bed, but talking with the beast had become one of his more fun activities. It had taken them a long time to warm up to each other, but Logan could now say that he appreciated Beast’s style. He wouldn’t have said such a thing, but he could freely think it.

Hank sighed. “Need any Band-Aids while you’re down here? Perhaps a cat scan so that we can determine if there is any damage to your brain – if said brain truly exists?”

“Cute,” said Logan hopping off the table.

“Compliments on my looks now? Thank you Wolverine, I wish I could reciprocate, but it would just be a lie. Oh hey,” he called before Logan left. “Try not to allow any more car doors to knock you unconscious. Just some medical advice.”

Logan flipped him a thumbs up before heading out for the night.

Happiness lit Hank up for a little bit as he went about his menial tasks. The bliss was completely gone by the time he crawled into his large empty bed.

* * *

 

 “Oh god! You spilled some on my sleeve!” shrieked Rogue.

Bobby was hovering over her with a bowl and ladle. “At least the color doesn’t clash with your eyes.”

Most of the school’s students were around the huge dining table. Saturday dinners were prepared as a group activity. While not mandatory, it was such a looked-forward to event that each week’s turnout was excellent. Staff didn’t have to help out either, but they usually they did. Not Logan of course, but he enjoyed the fruits of everyone’s labor.

“Can’t you chew with your mouth closed?” Kitty snapped at Logan.

He deliberately chewed sloppier receiving a glare from her and an admonishment from Ororo. “Please refrain from being a negative influence Logan.”

“Wouldn’t he have to be dead for that?” asked Hank.

“Being dead isn’t a bad influence?” asked Logan tersely. His fellow mutants felt safe insulting him when Beast was around, picking up on the easy sharp-tongued dynamic between the two. They did not grasp that the tacit permission he granted Beast was not extended to the peanut gallery.  

A child ran into the dining room. His eyes were big and round like CDs. “Come and see what Piotr’s carrying!” He then ran out of the room. With that kind of build-up, who wouldn’t get up to look?

A crowd formed in the study where Piotr was carrying a pool table. He was lifting it gently from spot to spot testing out locations in the room to get it just right. Once he had it in its final position, he smiled at the swarm of students and teachers around him. “Gift from Professor X.”

There were happy shouts. Wolverine’s eyes smiled at Beast, but his lips were passive. “The sticks are still out in my truck,” said Piotr. He glanced around at the children with a smile. “Anyone strong enough to help me carry those in?” An immediate flurry of little hands bobbed up and down.

“I see my little surprise got here in one piece,” called a voice from behind the buoyant crowd. It parted, allowing Professor Xavier to roll into the room. He nodded his bare head towards Colossus. “Thank you very much Piotr.” Piotr shrugged his massive shoulders. It hadn’t been a big effort for him to carry the thing inside. He ushered out the children to bring in the pool table’s accessories.

This was a much higher quality pool table than Hank was used to, not surprising considering its purchaser, and his hands practically itched to touch the unblemished green felt. Judging from the silent reverence in the room, it was likely that he was not the only one.

“Obviously, the children will need supervision with it,” said the professor, addressing the remaining adults.

Ororo quickly assured him that it would be no trouble providing the children with supervision. “And I think it is wonderful that they will have more recreation than that television.”

“Jamie’s still gonna watch TV,” said Warren. “He never leaves that damn machine.”

“I might stop for a bit to play a game of pool,” Jamie said defensively. He was just returning from Piotr’s truck with a stick in his hand. Behind him followed two more of himself also bearing cues. “But Smallville is on tonight, so I can’t waste all my time here.”

“I think the grownups should test it out,” Logan suggested. Immediately there were objections from the youngins.

“But we go to bed earlier!”

“We want to play too!”

“Let us test it!”

Logan winced. The screeching of children was one of the most horrible noises on the planet, a fact he had discovered only after signing up for helping a whole damned building of the mini noisemakers.

Ororo chided him. “Logan, it is their pool table too. Besides, they can only use it when a grownup is around. You can use it anytime you want.” Then, when she saw his mouth open, she added, “except now.”

“I get first game after the pipsqueaks lose consciousness.” He left the room, not wanting to watch other people get to play. There were things that he needed to do anyway. There were some jeans that needed the button sewn back on them. Then there was his room that needed desperate attention; it was reaching the point where he couldn’t find the floor. What a domestic night he had ahead of him. He frowned on the way up the stairs to his room. 

* * *

 

 “Next victim!” Logan was carrying the pool stick over his shoulder. They had successfully wiped out every opponent so far. Logan never in one million years would have guessed that Hank would be so damned good at pool. If he hadn’t been so self-absorbed when it had arrived, he would have noticed Hank’s enthusiasm. Now that they were playing, it was obvious that he was every bit as much of a pool aficionado as himself.

Hank laughed. “I believe Ororo is eager to beat us. Too bad she won’t be able to.”

Ororo snatched a pool cue from Scott’s hand. “Oh, I think I can give it a shot. Kurt, are you brave enough to take on these two?”

Kurt Wagner had yet to play, but he seemed like the type that could shoot a ball any direction he wanted. “I have the bravery, but I fear I lack the skill.”

Ororo rolled her eyes. “Kurt! Some bravado would be appropriate here.”

“Ah. In that case, I shall truly dazzle you with my superior abilities.” He winked at her and whispered, “My ability to miss every shot.”

Hank coughed in impatience. Logan grinned over at him. “They’re stalling, but it ain’t gonna save them is it Hairball?”

“This one is mine,” Hank said evilly. He was eager to show Ororo just how good at pool he was. He had been holding back until now, just enjoying the feel of a cue stick that wasn’t bent push a ball without peeling paint, but now he wanted to impress his ex-girlfriend.

Ororo pushed past Logan. “I will break.”

“Nice manners Stormy.” She then showed him how mannered he could be by producing an obscene finger gesture. Hank and Logan exchanged surprised looks and then laughed heartily.

The break was clean, but no balls were sunk. It was too bad for Ororo, since that was her last time to touch the cue that game. Hank proceeded to sink every single ball after that. He snickered and teased at her while he made his shots. Logan enjoyed seeing Hank’s competitive and aggressive side directed at someone else for a change, especially the haughty Ororo Munroe.  

“I’m sorry Ororo, did you actually want to play?” Hank taunted just before calling the eight-ball. At this point, Ororo knew she wasn’t a rival and she was just enjoying seeing this mischievous side of her beast.

It was very late at night when Hank sunk the eight against Ororo. All the children except Jamie were in bed. Most of the adults were in their rooms, some of them doing adult things. In the library there were five of them: Logan, Hank, Ororo, Kurt, and Piotr. And Piotr was starting to drift off, his head resting on a fist.

“No one can beat you!” exclaimed Kurt.

“Nice of you to notice,” said Hank with twinkling eyes.

“You two wiped out every competitor tonight, but I still want to see the ultimate match,” challenged Ororo.

Hank and Logan exchanged panicked looks. Both had seen the other play that night and knew what they were up against. “Yeah, you guys should do that while I go to bed,” said Piotr.

“Ooh! A Xavier school match to the death!” said Kurt, excited.

Logan grinned. “Eh, he doesn’t have what it takes to beat me.”

Hank let himself bite onto the bait that his friend was dangling. “Care to make a bet on that?”

“What are we betting, Fluffhead?”

After a few moments of thought, an idea entered into Hank’s head. There were a lot of other thoughts that followed after. But it was late at night and he didn’t want to hesitate. “The loser has to be the winner’s slave for 24 hours.”

Ororo took a quick glance over at Kurt to see if he had noticed anything dirty about that challenge. But as usual, Kurt was utterly naïve. Then she looked at Piotr who was thinking the same thing she was. She knew this by the new, alert way he was looking at her and then by the thumbs up sign he flashed her. Over the past few weeks, Hank and Logan’s flirting had begun to attract attention. 

“I should have known you’d want something perverted,” Logan observed.

Hank’s mouth dropped open. “You are such an ego-maniac. I wasn’t talking about a sex slave.”

“Why not? You could probably use it,” laughed Logan as he began readying the table for the next game. To do so, he had to brush past Hank. As he did he whispered, “After all, your last sex slave switched fuzzy blue men.”

Hank grimaced at the insult. He looked to Ororo who was at that moment whispering something into Kurt’s ear. They had been broken up for a while before she started dating Kurt, but he still felt burned by it. “Low blow, Logan.”

Logan frowned. “Sorry,” was all he said. He hadn’t meant to hurt Hank, just to get him back for the “ego-maniac” comment. “I accept your challenge.”

“Of course you do, with your mind on sex slaves and all.”

“Fuzzy, if I wanted you, you’d already be in my bed curly-toed with a cigarette in your mouth.”

The room gaped at Logan. Kurt got a creepy shiver up his spine. Now he was starting to notice.

“You wanna flip the coin?” Logan asked calmly, possibly unaware of but more likely pleased by, just how uncomfortable he had just made everyone. Hank was still getting over the visual that had just been presented.

“You go ahead. Best two of three right?”

Piotr groaned. “Three more games? But I want to see who wins!”

“Well we ain’t videotaping them, Bub,” replied Logan.

“Don’t worry Piotr, this won’t take long.” Hank sounded more certain than he felt.

With that dare, the two finally began their match to the death (of freedom). Hank won the coin toss. So, he proceeded to sink every ball on the table. Logan watched looking totally confident. He just needed an opening and he would win.

The second game, Piotr began to snore loudly from one of the library’s cushy chairs. Kurt was sitting on the back of the loveseat with Storm leaning back into him. She had opened the French doors and they could hear the sound of crickets when the clacking of billiard balls wasn’t sounding. Hank yawned. “Hey Ororo, what time is it?”

She looked to the outside night sky. “Still a few hours before daylight. I believe it is around 3.”

“Didn’t realize you were a clock Stormy.” Logan took another excellent shot, nearing the eight-ball but not actually knocking it in prematurely.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m rooting for Hank.”

“Big surprise there, everyone roots for the underdog. Eight in corner pocket.” The move went just as he had called it making the two tied.

“Just leave me alone!” came a shout from outside. It was Rogue’s voice and instantly Logan was at the opened doors. The angle was poor, but he could see two figures, Rogue and Remy, standing just outside the front door of the mansion. “You always treat me like this. I can’t even stand to look at ya.”

Their bodies shuffled about a bit as Remy tried to grab her arm to keep her from going inside. Wolverine felt the pain as his claws came out on his right hand. He hadn’t willed them to do that, but seeing anyone bothering Rogue caused something to click in his head, like a homicidal light switch.

She pushed him away from her. “I’m serious this time. We are through. Ya hear me? I hope you die, you bastard.” It ruined her entrance a little to unlock the door, but she wasn’t Shadowcat. When she was inside, she slammed the door on Remy. Wolverine walked back to the pool table.

“I’ll be right back.”

Hank nodded. “Take your time.”

After he left the room, Kurt asked, “Is he going after Rogue…or Remy?” 

* * *

 

“Rogue darlin’?” Logan nervously tapped on her door with one knuckle. She immediately opened it, because she knew he would come. When he entered, it was with the same trepidation in his walk with which he always came into her room. To him she was a strange entity somewhere between girl and woman. In a way, she would always be the little stowaway, but now she had enticing feminine wiles. The combination unnerved him and he was rarely comfortable with her in such intimate settings.

“I hate men,” stated Rogue, taking up a fetal sitting position on her bed.

“What did he do?” His claws had retracted since the porch confrontation, but could easily pop out again depending on her response.

She sighed. “I just don’t get why he bothers to try to have a relationship with me if he’s so hung up on the physical. He knows that I can’t, so why does he bother with me? She sobbed for a bit into her knees. Logan waited for her to get it out.

She finally did, her breathing ragged and little hiccupy noises growing fainter. “He was with another woman.”

Logan had figured. Remy didn’t really seem like the one-woman type. Treating Rogue that way, especially with how sensitive she was about her condition was unforgivable. “Do you need me to hurt him?”

Rogue smiled sincerely at him. “You serious?”

“You know I am.”

She leaned forward and hugged his chest tightly. “You’re my guardian angel.”

“Is that a yes then?” He wouldn’t enjoy making Remy bleed and he’d probably take shit from Chuck about it, but he’d do it for her.

She shook her head. “Naw, I understand why he did it.”

Logan eyed her with bemusement. She was the most important woman in his life now that Jean had passed on. She was spunk and beauty and fierceness. He adored her and had hoped someday a man worthy of her would do the same.

“If you’re going to excuse him treating you like that I’m gonna…”

“I’m not excusing him. He shouldn’t be in a relationship with me if he can’t take it. But, I understand. I wouldn’t want me either.” The tears started again.

“Rogue, you have become the most…” he stopped unable to think of words to continue that thought. She looked at him expectantly. “Damn. I’m no good at this kind of thing. You’re special and I like you and I hate that guy for making you hurt.”

“I love you too Logan,” she said sweetly. “I’m glad you’re always there for me when I need ya.”

She squeezed him one more time before sitting back against her headboard. “How was your night?”

Logan fought the grin that wanted to appear. “Just teachin’ the Beast how real men play pool. Oh, Chuck bought a school pool table.”

“That should be fun,” she said unenthusiastically. Her eyes were closed in emotional exhaustion.

He scratched his head. “Yeah, I’m actually in a kind of match with him. We have a twenty-four hours slave-bet going.”

“You should get back to that then.”

“You wanna watch?”

As a response, Rogue pulled the blankets up and slid under. Logan stood up so that she could burrow her feet under the spot he was sitting. “I think I just wanna sleep.”         

She looked old and worn down. He reached out and touched her gloved hand. “Sleep good, ‘kay kid?”

“Goodnight Logan. And thanks.”

* * *

 

“Everything all right?” asked Hank when Logan returned. The other three had made their way to their respective rooms once Ororo had roused the sleeping Colossus. Hank was reading through the better scenes of Great Expectations.

“Nothing some manslaughter wouldn’t help.”

Hank grinned. “You know, it’s only manslaughter if it’s not pre-meditated.” He rose and returned the book to the shelf.

“Yeah, but manslaughter sounds worse. So, shall I beat you so that we can get some shut-eye?” The table was already racked and ready to go. Logan grabbed his pool cue. At least, he thought it was the same one he had been using before.

Hank also grabbed a stick. “Are you up to it?”

“I’m always up for kicking your ass.” Logan looked around for the coin.

“So fascinated with my posterior, as usual,” quipped Beast as he held up the coin that Logan was looking for.

“In that case, I call tails.”

The coin landed heads side up. Logan just had to sit and hope that Hank screwed up.

“Is Rogue okay? It seemed like a pretty bad fight.”

Logan shrugged. “Who here doesn’t have love problems. We’re like a goddamn soap opera.”

Hank grunted in agreement. He’d been alone since Ororo, though she’d moved on with Kurt. Logan had been in love with a very attached Jean then been forced to stab her to death in order to save the world. Charles and Magneto seemed to have some kind of connection despite being archenemies.

“Oh hey, that reminds me. Sorry again about what I said.” Logan had felt the impact when he had tossed out that insult about Storm. He had crossed some kind of teasing line. “I was a dick.”

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it.” Hank paused from his shot wondering about whether he should explain his Ororo problem. He then figured what the hell. They were alone and it was late. “Since they started dating, I’ve wondered if maybe she just dated me for my looks.”

Logan perceived the melancholy that was in Hank’s voice. He leaned back against the wall watching Hank take his shot. He was listening intently, this was his friend, but there was still a part of his brain hoping that he would miss. He didn’t; the ball went as aimed as it always seemed to under Hank’s control.

“It’s strange. I’ve spent so long worrying that people wouldn’t like me for my looks and then I’m afraid of being wanted solely for them.”

Logan laughed. “Yeah, I hate when beautiful women want to use me for my body.”

“Ororo is more than beautiful. She is…intoxicating.”

“I don’t know that I’d go that far. Well, she’s not really my type.” For one thing, Ororo wasn’t a red head. Logan’s brain wistfully conjured up an image of Jean Grey in his mind.

“What is your type?” asked Hank not looking up from the table.

An easy question, one had put a lot of thought into. What trait from each friend would he put into the dream gal? “My ideal woman. Okay, she’s got Jeannie’s knock-out body right?”

Hank nodded. Of course Jean would be the ideal. Death had only served to raise her pedestal.

“Then Rogue’s spunk. Don’t look at me like that. It’s platonic. Okay, then Jube’s optimism. Ororo’s stubbornness, definitely. She cracks me up with her willpower,” Logan smiled. His memory took him on a little trip of times when he’d seen her determination. “And your wit.”

Hank’s hand faltered on the cue. Had he just heard Logan correctly? “I’m on your list of the ideal woman?”

With a shrug, Logan challenged, “Yeah, so?”

Setting down his stick, Hank glared at Logan. “You do realize that I am not a woman.”

A shocked look came over Logan’s face. “Oh man, boy do I feel silly!”

“Not funny,” said Hank with a scowl. He picked his stick back up. “Don’t you find it a little pathetic that I’m on your list? Side pocket for the win.”

Logan wasn’t ashamed to admit that his friend had qualities that he looked for in a girlfriend. Qualities didn’t have a gender. Plus, he had more fun with Hank than most of the women he’d dated. He didn’t have to worry about offending him or accidentally knicking him with a claw. They’d scrapped a few times actually, resulting in some injuries on Beast’s side, but nothing serious. He could be himself around Hank. “Not really. I’d date ya.”

With slightly shaky hand, Hank botched the shot. The eight ball missed the side pocket. He glared angrily at Logan. “Psychological warfare is low.”

Logan laughed. “Did I scare or entice you?” He stepped forward with his cue feeling totally in control and about to win.

Hank didn’t answer, not that it was expected. The answer was supposed to be ‘scare.’ It certainly wasn’t supposed to be, “Your words made my poor lonely little heart do backflips." As sad as it was, Hank never heard things as romantic as “I’d date ya.”

“I hope you’re prepared to be my slave, cause I need some laundry done. Side pocket and unlike you, I’ll hit it.” A groan came from his opponent. Logan focused on the shot. He felt the power of victory pumping through his body before he even stabbed at the cue ball. In fact, he used so much power that the ball bounced off the corner of the intended target. Logan’s jaw dropped as it bounced into a different hole with a final thunk.

“I may have some laundry that needs done as well,” said Hank with a huge beastly grin.

The stick made a cracking noise as Logan squeezed the hell out of it. He stared at the tear near the top of the stick in surprise. He hadn’t meant to break the thing. Hank didn’t care about the damaged stick. “Be at my door at nine sharp. You can help me in the lab,” he instructed. His face was still glowing with happiness.

“So, four hours from now?” asked Logan looking at the lightening sky.

“You’d better rest up. I have a lot of work that needs done.” He left the room, but once in the hall he began to laugh. It wasn’t a boisterous laugh it was a mad scientist laugh. Logan shook his head then went ahead and broke the stick in two. 

* * *

 

“So, what does the boss man have in mind?” asked Logan loudly as he leaned casually against the lab’s door frame. Unfortunately, his Fonz-like approach to his defeat and subsequent punishment was for naught since Hank wasn’t present.

“Furrball?” Logan entered the empty room. “Hank?”

The lab was a separate room in the infirmary divided by a glass wall and door. There were two tables with beakers and Bunsen burners and other scientific gadgets that Logan had never learned to use and had no interest in. Behind these tables was Hank’s desk. Many times Logan had walked into the infirmary and seen Hank reluctantly stop whatever he was working on back there to help whoever had come in.

While there was no Hank, there was a large paper bag with the name Logan scrawled across it in red Sharpie.

‘Just great,’ he thought, already feeling disgruntled by ill-treatment that had yet to occur. Sourly he grabbed the bag and peered at its contents: an envelope and some clothing.

He snatched up the letter. He couldn’t help but hear Beast’s snarky voice as he read the practically illegible handwriting.

[To my slave – ]

[I hope this letter finds you well and rested. I am sorry that I am not able to instruct you in person, but I do look forward to inspecting your work later in the day. In this bag you will find your lab-cleaning uniform. I do hope that you find it as flattering as I’m sure it will be. On the next page you will find your task list for the day; I do expect to see all of these chores done and done well. I will come to collect you some time later today. They say that keeping a positive attitude makes any chore easier, so Logan, I would love for you to “whistle while you work.” ]

[Your master and billiards superior, ]

[Hank McCoy]

            ‘That bastard.’ Logan pulled his uniform out of the bag. It was an apron, a ridiculously frilly apron that wore the phrase “I kiss better than I cook.” Beneath that were some rubber gloves, eye goggles, and other safety paraphernalia that Wolverine wouldn’t need on account of his healing powers.

            With a growl, he flipped to the second page to see his chore list. It would have been one thing if Hank had been there; this was way more demeaning. No one would be able to see that he was doing it all with a casual, smirking grin on his face. All anyone would know is that he was a good little slave and did everything he was told. ‘Damn that bastard,’ Logan thought before putting on the apron. He couldn’t get over how well Hank knew him, knew that he would try and pull off the servitude with bravado. Well dammit, he would do a good job cleaning up the joint. It looked like it needed it anyway.

Many floors higher in the mansion, Beast rolled over in bed. He took a glance at the clock, smiled, and then curled up tighter to go back to sleep. 

* * *

 

Hank took a nice leisurely shower. His morning felt amazingly good. He had left a note for Charles explaining that he was taking the day off before he’d even gone to sleep. Now it was lunchtime and he was just getting out of bed. He felt decadent. He used a little extra conditioner on his body fluff. It only added to his pleasure to know that Logan was down in the lab cleaning out all his cupboards and doing those little tasks that he had been putting off doing for months now.

Hank had only ever told one person about the Barracuda Bar and Lounge, his home away from home. Ororo had never betrayed his confidence in the matter. He liked his straight-laced, stoic image and that would be shattered were anyone to know about his drinking and pool-playing, to see him tipsy and swearing with his barfly friends. His regular trips to the Barracuda were not something that shamed him (he was a grown adult, after all, and capable of making his own decisions), but it was certainly not something in which he took pride. He had never let Ororo see that side to him, had never taken her to the bar, though on some nights when he played especially well, he often wished she was there. All the hours devoted to the sticky mugs of beer and wobbly stools with cigarette marks burned into them, had paid off. Hank had played like a pro last night, sinking nearly every shot he aimed for. He hadn’t ever played that well before, most likely due to the quality of billiard equipment at the Barracuda. Xavier’s table didn’t have the beer rings and frayed fabric around the pockets like Hank’s table, the one that he dominated five nights a week.

Hank took longer than usual while getting ready. He brushed his fur longer and put a bit more thought into his attire for the day. It was his intention to milk this opportunity for all it was worth. How often did anyone get leverage on Logan? He was looking forward to seeing Logan hard at work wearing that old frilly apron, a white elephant gift from years ago. The mirror’s reflection held a well-groomed and smiling blue man.

Over the last few months it seemed like the only time he did smile, from the heart, was when he and Logan were verbally sparring. Actually, just spending time around him cheered Hank up. He hadn’t thought too much on it, but now he realized that he viewed Logan as a friend. More than that, he considered Logan a good friend. He didn’t know when that had happened, but he was glad it did.

On his stroll down to the infirmary, Hank smiled and nodded at the people he passed. He was hoping to see Rogue, but no luck. After her fight with Remy, he was concerned that she might still be crying in her room. He wouldn’t intrude into her life and actually check in, that was more of Logan’s job, but he kept an eye out for her in the halls.

He straightened up before opening the infirmary doors. The smell of chemicals, hopefully properly disposed of, overwhelmed his superior senses. He was so glad that he hadn’t had to do this job.

Logan was on all fours with bottles surrounding his body. His head was underneath the sink as he scrubbed out the cupboard where the bottles were stored. He hadn’t even heard the door chime of Hank coming in. Hank watched in smug pleasure as his temporary slave plugged away. All he could see of his slave was a denim-clad backside and he could hear the swish-swish of the sponge. It wasn’t too bad of a view.

“Having fun?” asked Hank, startling Logan. He backed out of the cupboard and glared up at his furry friend. With a venomous look, Logan began to restock the cupboard. Hank waited patiently as each bottle was neatly replaced.

When Logan finally stood up, he watched his friend with disapproving wariness. “So, are you ready to start on my laundry?” asked Hank. He was practically bubbling with amusement.

Logan looked as if he was about to say something, then pursed his lips together and whistled. 

* * *

 

“I could make a sweater from this lint trap.” Hank had Logan performing little errands and cleaning while the loads of laundry had been running. He was just finishing up the third load and was beginning to run out of steam. He was so ready for dinner.

“I didn’t know you knew how to knit, but I should have guessed.”

Logan sat next to Hank on the bench in the laundry room. He let out a deep sigh at how good just sitting felt. Ah well, he wasn’t the kind to welsh on a bet. In fact, he would have been a lot crueler to Hank if he had won.

“Are you tired?” asked Hank. He was starting to feel a bit bad for actually treating Logan like a servant. It was all in fun and he didn’t actually want him to be miserable.

Logan grinned. “Just because I got four hours of sleep and have been catering to you for…” He looked at his watch. “Eight hours doesn’t mean that I’m tired.”

“Should we see if they have dinner ready?” suggested Hank.

“Hell yes.” 

* * *

 

Dinner was ready and Logan piled it away with a bit more enthusiasm than usual. Hank regaled the table with the long list of chores that he had subjected Logan to doing. Though he glared and occasionally growled, Logan was much more interested in his food than what Hank was yammering about. The kids were teasing him. He hated it when they weren’t afraid of him. The only time kids seemed to behave was when they had fear of the person trying to discipline them; at least that was how he viewed it. It was probably best that Logan had no intention of becoming a father.

Kurt was paying more attention to their interaction after Ororo had explained her suspicions last night. He wasn’t used to seeing any kind of flirtation between two men and he certainly didn’t see it as such. Still, Ororo really knew people much better than he did and so he was on guard, not wanting to miss it if she was right.

Ororo was pleased as punch that Hank had won. She wished that she had been there to see it, but the game had just gone on too late. Most nights of the week he went to that bar and played pool. He had never told anyone but her, so she had been surprised that he was willing to show off what he had learned. It really was amazing how good he had become. If he wasn’t a mutant, he could go pro.

“So, all you’ve had him do for you are chores?” asked Piotr suggestively. “I can’t believe I was waiting up for that.”

Hank chuckled, but with an embarrassed tone. “Perhaps one day you can defeat him in pool…”

“No, no, no. I ain’t making anymore stupid bets on that pool table. Not that you haven’t been a great boss Fuzzy.” He was gaining his energy back from the food, but he was still a bit grumpy about how the game had gone. He had wanted to win so bad and had been so surprised to fail.

Piotr rolled his eyes. He hadn’t been thinking that he wanted Wolverine. No, he had wanted to see the two guys finally do something about their tension. As a gay man, it was possible that he was seeing something that wasn’t there, but he didn’t think so. He was convinced that the two needed to bang the hell out of each other.

“After seeing you both play, I doubt that anyone would be foolish enough to offer a challenge,” complimented Ororo.

“Thank you Ororo,” said Hank with an incline of his head. He looked at Logan. Logan was picking at the remnants of dinner on his plate. This was a great day. He felt positively jolly.

After dinner wrapped up, Logan followed his master upstairs. Hank wanted to grab some photos that Ororo had asked for. He was running out of things for Logan to do, but he didn’t really feel that he should dismiss him so early.

Logan felt awkward standing in Hank’s room while Hank tore through his closet. “So, why does Stormy want these pictures?” He had never been in Hank’s room. It had more clutter than his, but so did every room in the mansion. Logan didn’t like to set down roots anywhere and so he didn’t have any knickknacks or decorations in his room.

Hank had a brown blanket that didn’t look very warm on his bed. Logan had never considered that Hank probably wouldn’t need much to keep warm even in winter. His curtains were also brown with some green accents. Overall, the room had a nature feel to it that Logan did not equate with Beast. Whenever Logan thought about his friend, things like books and lab equipment came to mind. He seemed to immerse himself in manmade things, though he did take the kids out for nature hikes on occasion. Even in those cases though, he would recite the scientific names of plants and trees they would find.

There was a small, cluttered desk beside Hank’s bed that looked as if it was used more often than the bed was. There were papers and books built into a pile in the center. Logan spotted some stray hairs atop the pile. Yes, just as he’d thought. No doubt they had at least once been used as a pillow. It didn’t look like a particularly comfortable pile.

A box crashed loudly to the ground. “Well, that needed moved anyway,” joked Beast. He checked its contents, crouching next to the box. His face brightened as he pulled out a booklet of photos. “Voila!”

“What does she want the photos for?” repeated Logan.

Hank stood up and glanced at him. “Well, these are from that trip that we took to Niagara Falls. I think that she wants a copy. We only purchased the one set.”

“And you’re just going to give them to her? Don’t you want them?” Logan asked.

Hank hadn’t pulled them out of his closet in years. Was it important to keep them? “I’m sure she won’t want all of them and I don’t really look at them anymore…obviously.”

He restacked the box in his closet. Logan felt like he’d been a bit nosey, which wasn’t something people tended to accuse him of. “Hey, you mind if I look in on Rogue? She wasn’t at dinner.”

“I had noticed that as well. Yes, of course Logan.”

 Logan smiled politely at him before heading off to look after his friend. Hank pulled his desk chair out a bit to sit down. He snatched the photo booklet off the bed where he had set it. Niagara Falls. He hadn’t thought about that trip for a very long time and it had surprised him when Ororo had mentioned it.

Flipping through it, it amazed him how well he remembered everything. Ororo had felt a kinship to the powerful water, always attracted to forces of nature. She had seemed hypnotized by it. He had been hypnotized by her, her beauty and her spirit. He had felt so lucky to be with her. Never had a moment passed that he hadn’t been grateful, never taking for granted this goddess’s affection.

Hank sighed. He was so damned lonely now. Normally when this feeling reached him, he’d sneak off to Barracuda, but Logan had said that he’d be back. Instead, he changed into more casual clothes and decided to work on those research notes.

* * *

 

“Rogue darlin’?” Logan never felt more uncomfortable than when he was visiting Rogue’s room. He felt like a dirty old pervert. No, he felt like others would perceive him as a dirty old pervert, even though he had nothing but honorable intentions. If Rogue hadn’t grown into such a striking young lady, perhaps he wouldn’t have worried so much, but there was no way to know.

“Come on in Logan,” Rogue called and he entered into her room.

She was sitting Indian-style on her bed. Her eyes were red and her hair was un-brushed. He set down the plate of food that he’d brought up for her on the bed. “Brought grub,” he said.

“I kinda thought you might.” Rogue smiled at him sincerely and reached for the plate. He was glad to see that she had an appetite. “Tell me Logan, how bad do I look?”

He shrugged. He might not have a girlfriend, but he knew better than to answer that one. She looked like she’d just broken up with her boyfriend and that was okay since she had.

She grabbed some of the chicken with her fingers and proceeded to scarf. He wished he’d brought more seeing how quickly she was eating. “You could have come to dinner.”

Rogue shook her head. “No.”

He just nodded. Not that the two were too similar, but when he’d lost Jeannie, he hadn’t wanted to leave his room either. Comparing breaking up with your cheating boyfriend or stabbing the woman you were in love with to death was pointless. Still, in a way, heartbreak was heartbreak regardless of the circumstances.

“Maybe tomorrow?” he asked.

“Maybe.” She really didn’t know if she was up for ever leaving her room again, but there was a possibility that she would for more than just relieving her bladder. “Did you see him today?”

Logan shook his head. “Been Beast’s bitch all day.”

She looked at him in surprise and then laughed with feeling. It made him smile a bit to hear her laugh. “What?”

“Well, you know the pool match I mentioned last night?”

Her eyes floated upwards. “I think I remember you saying something, but I wasn’t really… I’m sorry, I wasn’t payin’ attention.”

“No problem girly. He won at pool, so I’m his slave until nine tomorrow.” When she smiled at him, he decided to try and make her laugh again. “I cleaned his lab, did his laundry… did you know that he wears boxers with little rubber duckies on them?” This was a damn lie, but it succeeded in making Rogue laugh.

“Really, I’d have thought it’d be a banana hammock!” she teased. They both laughed.

“Ugh. That’ll be in my head for a while.”

“Thanks for checking in on me Logan.” Her face looked so sweet. Logan felt kind of like a hero when she looked at him like that. No one else had ever made him feel like that, well, only one other person had.

“You’ll be okay kiddo. Want me to fetch you another plate?”

Rogue was about to decline, but then she was still pretty hungry and she had no intention of going down to the kitchen. “Could I also get some juice or something?”

“Girly, you can have whatever the hell you want.” He would offer her up the world if he could. Instead, he filled up her belly and hoped that somehow that would help her heart mend.

* * *

 

“How is she?” asked Hank as Logan came into the room. He had finally been doing work he’d been putting off for ages. Still, he welcomed the interruption. He could tell by Logan’s face that it had gone well.

“She’ll be fine. That is one strong kid.” He seemed to be bragging as if he was a father. There were many times that Hank had seen that kind of paternal side of Logan when he spoke about Rogue. It made him proud of Logan, to see him taking that kind of interest in another person.

“Well,” Hank clapped his hands together. “I had a thought.”

“Holy crap! We’ll have to write this day down on the calendar,” Logan joked.

“Would you like to see where I became your pool superior?” He chose to ignore the lame insult and hoist one of his own.

“I’ve seen the library before. I was there remember?”

It had crossed his mind in the past, sharing his hangout spot with Logan. He was a little surprised that Logan hadn’t bumped into him there, since it was so close to the school. With how often they talked and laughed with each other, Hank suspected that letting him in on the secret might just make it more fun.

“Go get your coat pup,” Hank goaded. “We’re going out.”

* * *

 

“The Barracuda Bar and Lounge,” read Logan. “Aren’t you a little fuzzy to be a lounge lizard?”

“I believe you were looking for barfly and you’d think so, but there are some nice gents here.” Hank felt a little nervous about letting someone in on this aspect of his world. Ororo may hve been too classy of a woman to bring to a dive like this, but nothing about Wolverine yelled class.

He pulled open the familiar door. Heat and music rushed towards them. Hank pushed back the hood on his sweater, feeling okay revealing his mutant self to the Barracuda’s patrons. If they hadn’t seen him before, they’d get accustomed to the sight soon enough; all the regulars had.

“Hank!” yelled a male voice from behind the bar. Actually, this bar was filled with almost all male voices. Only a few women came here, because it was just that type of place, though the owner was a woman.

“Hello Tommy.” The bartender passed him a beer. “I’ll need another of those.”

Tommy’s face filled with artificial sympathy. “Bad day?” he asked, fetching another bottle and popping the top.

It wasn’t exactly a jumping establishment, but there were pockets of people here and there. Every foot of space inside was either too brightly lit or too dim, no in between. Logan took in the smell of stale cigarettes and grease, a staple of any bar anywhere even those that were non-smoking and didn’t serve food.

“I brought a new customer to Connie’s fine establishment.” Hank gestured to Logan standing behind him. Logan nodded curtly at the bartender and then reached for the beer that had been opened for him. He drew closer to inspect what seemed to be racy pictures hanging on the wall.

“Ha! That’s a good one Hank. You should mention that fine establishment thing when she’s around.” Tommy was laughing and smiling. He was a young man in his mid-twenties. He didn’t have enough brains to go very far in life, but he was a good enough bartender. “How many quarters?”

Hank laid down a ten dollar bill. “I will take a roll tonight. I have finally found some decent competition.”

Hank felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Chris, already drunk, but cheerful enough. “Whatever, I’m on a lucky streak tonight!”

Chris was a middle-aged alcoholic. He spent more time at the bar than Hank ever did, but he had a family waiting for him at home. Hank felt pity for him but also appreciated Chris’s company – most of the time. Chris never treated him differently for his blue fur and ungainly stature.

“This is my friend Logan,” he gestured. Logan turned from the pictures, just old timey pin-up stuff, and allowed his chin to jerk a minor nod. He was a bit thrown off by the situation. He never suspected this double life of Hank. Seeing that the bartender knew his name and favorite beer, Hank must be a regular. It was kind of unbelievable. While he was surprised, he also found himself a bit amused. Maybe Hank wasn’t as boring as he had believed.

“Holy shit! You brought a friend? Well, hey, I’m Chris. I um… I live here.” Chris burst into drunken laughter after a brief little wave. He leaned on Hank a little more. “No, man, that’s great. I had no idea that you had friends.”

Hank tried not to take that in the way in which it was meant. He smiled a little. “How could I want for more friends with you guys here?” He said.

The sarcasm of the comment was lost on poor drunken Chris. “Aw, that’s so nice!” he cooed, his face and breath way too close to Hank’s face.

“Well, we call next game,” said Hank, making a very exaggerated hand gesture to knock Chris off.

Chris smiled. “You betchya buddy!” he yelled out and walked back to one of the two tables. They were using the table that Hank thought of as his. Since the other was unoccupied, there was no reason not to ask to use that one.

“Hey buddy!” exclaimed Logan as he clapped a hand on Hank’s shoulder in mockery of the scene he’d just witnessed. “Why the hell do you come here?”

Hank laughed. “Don’t you ever want to get outside yourself?” He didn’t care to elaborate more than that, just made his way to the jukebox. They might have to wait a while for the table to clear and it’d be a good idea to have good music to pass the time with. Also, Hank was a little embarrassed about speaking his emotions so openly.

* * *

 

The two played again, but this time it was non-competitive. They cheered each others’ good shots and talked. It was such an amicable way to pass the time. Eventually some of the bar occupants challenged them to doubles. They mopped up the room, in a metaphorical sense, though it could have used it literally.

“Well Fuzzy, I think you actually play better when you’re blitzed.” Logan was feeling a bit fuzzy himself from the combination of beer and lack of sleep. The clock above the jukebox was evidence of how fast time was moving in the little bar. “Say, you think it’s time to call it an evening?”

Hank glanced at the clock and then looked back at it. It couldn’t be nearly midnight already could it? He replaced the bar’s pool cue on the wall rack. “My… I hadn’t noticed the time.”

“Yeah, almost like you got eight hours of sleep,” growled Logan, following Hank’s lead and putting away his cue.

“Oh, so that explains it; you’ve missed out on your beauty rest.”

Hank took time to say his goodbyes to Tommy, Chris, and some of the other gents that he’d come to think of in a vein similar to friends. Then he and Logan were off into the night. They’d walked to the bar, something that Hank was in the habit of doing, so they had a pleasantly drunk stroll back to the school.

“So, how was being my slave?”

“I believe that I’m still your slave for the next seven hours,” offered Logan. He had a mild buzz from the alcohol he’d consumed, but unfortunately his powers would have that shrugged off by the time that they got back to the mansion.

“I’m not sure I have much else that needs doing.”

“Well, you never did ask me for any sexual favors.” Logan smiled in the dark. He was thinking back the pool game when he’d boasted about being able to bed the Beast anytime he wanted to. He hadn’t missed the look on Kurt’s face and it still made him want to laugh.

“I would think you’d appreciate that.” Hank was leading the path back and he took the slightly longer way. It was a nice evening and he was a bit reluctant to let it end. “Unless you were wanting an excuse – like getting drunk.”

“I don’t need to drink to do what I want.”

Hank nodded. “You’re right. You don’t strike me as the kind that would rely on intoxication to free his inhibitions.” Honestly Logan didn’t even seem drunk. It suddenly hit Hank why that was. He hadn’t even considered Logan’s healing powers. “You also don’t seem the type to dabble in ‘the love that dare not speak its name.’”

Logan found the expression amusing as hell, always had. There was a lot he didn’t remember about his own past, but he was pretty sure that Hank was correct in his assessment. From what he could recall, he’d never had so much as a gay dream, let alone an experience. He had always been attracted to women, but he certainly found nothing wrong with men who weren’t. He certainly was not a homophobe or else he wouldn’t verbally play with Hank in the insinuative way that he did.

“You think too much McCoy! Don’t you ever just do what you want to do, fuck who you want?”

Hank sighed before answering. “That’s not my style. I lack your impulsiveness. Besides, I don’t know; I am lonely and extremely hard-up, but I don’t know that I actually want to… have sex with you.” He wasn’t sure what was coming out of his mouth. Perhaps he’d had more to drink than he should have. Logan’s suggestion had not been authentic. He knew that even through his drunkenness. Still, he felt the need to explain why it was that such a thing could not occur, perhaps because his brain had gone a few places over the last 24 hours that it should not have. “Not that I find anything wrong with…”

“Bullshit. You’re just in your head too much. You overanalyze fucking everything. You never just go with things.”

Now Hank was feeling a tad attacked. “And you have a problem with finishing things. You never follow through on any of these wild ideas you have.”

“Well…”

“Yeah?” asked Hank, waiting for the fight to be on.

“Fuck you fuzzball,” said Logan without any malice.

The two walked in silence a bit, seeing the mansion ahead of them. Both contemplated what the other has said. Hank was the first to speak. “You may be correct about me. Ororo may have mentioned something similar once or twice, that I may be lacking spontaneity.”

“Well, I ain’t saying you’re right. I can finish shit.”

“Oh yes, you really see things through. How many times have you left the school now, seeking out your origins? How…”

“Okay, wait. This is getting too brutal Furry. You’re gonna mention Jeannie and then I’ll have to hit you and I don’t want to do that.” Logan stuck out a hand in a gesture for Hank to stop. Hank nodded in understanding. They were always careful in their banter not to cross lines. It was harder for him to see the line when he was drunk, but he still got it.

They were at the school now, walking up the winding driveway. Spontaneously, Logan picked up on their earlier conversation. “I haven’t, you know, done it with a guy. Like you said, the love not speaking its name thing, never…”

“Neither have I,” Hank agreed. Then he laughed. “Though I think there might be some surprised to hear that. I have never understood the connection between being homosexual and being intellectual.”

Logan considered his next words carefully. “If I did though, I don’t think it’d be so bad with you.”

They had arrived at the front door to the mansion and Hank looked at Logan startled. He tried to evaluate his friend’s face. Was Logan being serious or just teasing? Hank decided that it was teasing. He smiled as he used his key on the lock. “Well, we still have about seven hours of your servitude…”

Logan’s face was priceless. He looked simultaneously shocked and uncomfortable. Hank broke into a blue grin.

“Oh man, you almost had me going there,” said Logan with obvious relief.

Hank swallowed down a bit of hurt with how relieved Logan sounded. Was it really such a horrible thought? Perhaps it was the alcohol making Hank feel disappointed, but he suspected it wasn’t. “Go ahead and head to sleep Wolverine. I release you from the remainder of your slave contract.” He opened the door and went inside. Logan followed in behind him.

The entrance to the school was impressive and pristine as always, though lit only by moonlight. Logan could feel that there had been a shift in Hank’s mood but he couldn’t identify its form or cause. His friend looked pensive; it must be the alcohol, he finally concluded.

“This was a pretty fun time. Thanks for showing me your haunt,” whispered Logan. “We’ll have to show them how pool is played again.”

Hank nodded. They both trudged up the stairs, both feeling suddenly incredibly sleepy. They walked until they came to Logan’s door.

“Hey, my dates don’t usually walk me to my door,” joked Logan.

“You’re not dating the right gentlemen then,” said Hank with a grin. “Don’t even think of asking me in for a nightcap.”

 They were facing each other and their postures said volumes about the ease they felt around each other. Logan was leaning back on his door frame a bit with his arms crossed loosely. Hank, less than a foot away from his friend, was stretching his arms out in a great yawn.

“Hey, you can’t give me orders anymore fuzzface.” Logan poked him in the chest. “I’m no longer your slave.” Hank tilted his head a bit in acknowledgement of that. “So, anything else I choose to do with my evening is my own doing.”

Hank was thinking about how sleeping wasn’t exactly a bold independent action and was about to say so, when Logan did the most curious thing. Logan kissed him. There was a split second when he was swooping in that Hank could have dodged; they were both trained fighters after all. It was too surprising of a thing to conceive of though and he didn’t move. He trusted Logan enough to allow that intrusion into his personal space.

Logan’s facial hair was not soft as his own was. He felt the scratch of Logan’s chin before he felt his lips. Logan smelled of beer and musk. His lips were hard against Hank and his mouth was already opened. The words shock and astonishment were not strong enough to capture how truly surprised Hank was by this kiss. There was a tongue in his mouth that belonged not only to a male, but it was Logan’s.

For his part, Logan had no freaking idea what he was doing. He knew that Hank was down (most likely due to alcohol consumption) and lonely and that there was a certain odd chemistry between them. He tended not to over-think his urges and so when he’d felt it, he seized it. He was understandably a bit nervous at the lack of response from Hank, since he was thinking this might just end up with him in a great deal of physical pain.

His trepidation didn’t last long, however, for Hank started to kiss back. It was heated, warm, and a bit painful. Their lips mashed together tightly and Logan’s plundering tongue was met by Hank’s own. His hand started to touch Hank’s face and then drew back upon finding the fur to be too disconcerting of a feeling. Kissing a man was so different.

Hank had felt the touch on his face and it felt too tender for what this was. There was too much desperation in him for sweet caresses. Brazenly, he wrapped an arm around Logan and gripped at his back with clenched fingertips. When his nails sank in a bit, Logan hissed into his mouth. Hank thrilled to that reaction.

When Logan returned the sting with a bit to Hank’s lip, he drew back a bit. Logan smiled at him. “Fair’s fair, right?” he asked smartly.

Hank returned to Logan’s lips. It was amazing how similar this was to their scrapping. They kissed for minutes, but what seemed longer. Finally, panting a bit, their kisses ebbed and they became more aware of their surroundings. The hallway was quiet. It was a section of the mansion reserved for the adults, so there was no fear of being discovered by a child up for a mid-night pee, but they were neither of them keen to be come upon by others.

They looked at each other, more energetic from their spontaneous makeout session. Hank was the first to laugh and then Logan joined him, quietly. “That was… odd, Wolverine.”

“See what happens when you don’t over think things?”

“Don’t try and pass on your impetuousness to me Boy,” scolded Hank. “Not all of us have your knack for healing from scrapes.”

Logan grinned. He did not want to take this further, so he said, “I think I’ll be heading to sleep. Someone had me up at dawn cleaning a laboratory.”

Even though aroused, Hank was extremely relieved that Logan hadn’t invited him to bed. He was pretty sure he wasn’t ready to take that kind of step right now. “Sounds like a clever fellow. Well, goodnight Logan.”

“’Night Hank,” said Logan. He then went into his room, closing the door behind him.

Hank was left in the utter silence of the hallway with heart still racing. He raised a hand to his lips and felt their soreness. Then, he continued down the hallway to his own room and only glanced back once.


	2. Chapter 2

           

Things did not become weird between Logan and Hank after the events that had transpired during Logan’s slavish repayment. Though the whole face-sucking incident had left lingering questions in both their minds, it had not undone the overall bonding that the evening had caused. That night Hank had revealed a part of himself that no one had seen before; that was not taken lightly by Logan who was so closed off himself. The next morning things had been just as dandy as ever between the two, as if that burst of sexual fire hadn’t been unleashed and as the weeks passed neither mentioned it nor made a move to reinitiate anything.

The only thing that changed was that occasionally Logan accompanied Hank on his trips to the Barracuda Bar and Lounge. He never went without Hank, careful not to encroach on another man’s sanctuary. The two quickly became the talk of the bar. Many of the denizens of the bar would come to watch them play, eager to view their prowess and laugh at their trash-talk. Through this method of socialization, Logan became better acquainted with Hank’s friends. He found that he still hated Chris, the drunken overly-friendly twirp, as much as he did when they first met. The bartender Tommy tended to be a bit on the dumb side, but he was a nice enough fellow. Logan liked the bar’s proprietor Connie the best of all the new folks he’d met. She was in her mid-forties and knew swear words that even he hadn’t heard before. She indulged his evil streak by sharing stories of Hank so drunk that he’d created stories for her to tell. These amused Logan as much as they embarrassed Hank. The people at the bar had no way of knowing how uncharacteristic that kind of behavior was for him.    Logan was obviously respected enough to be let in on this side and he’d be a fucking hypocrite to judge Hank for any defense mechanisms, so he kept his mouth shut about it. It was Hank’s life, or double-life as it were.

“How is it that you’ve gotten worse at this with practice?” Logan asked while watching Hank straighten up from the pool table. He’d missed yet another shot.

A sheepish look appeared on Hank’s face. It wasn’t a frequent expression for the serious mutant. “I felt that I couldn’t say anything at the time, but I played better that night than I ever have.”

Logan shook his head and growled. “Just my luck.” He had taken Hank to be some kind of a pool pro. He didn’t have much room to talk having had extraordinary luck himself that night, but it irked him that maybe the universe had conspired to make him Hank’s bitch for that 24 hours.

This was the first time their bet had come up since that night. Amazingly, there was no awkwardness at the subject, though Hank’s mind did drift a little to those passionate hallway kisses. Even though this particular memory had served to fuel a good number of erotic fantasies since, he had made no move to repeat the incident. He hadn’t even felt the urge to try. There was no use trying to recreate a scenario which had grown organically before. It had felt natural at the time, comfortable and, though vastly strange, familiar. If he approached Logan now, he knew that it would feel fake, maybe even dirty. More than that, even though it had felt so good at the time, Hank was still a bit disturbed over the implications of his enjoying what they’d done.

“My lab cupboards have never gleamed before. Honestly Logan, you should consider a job in the custodial field.” He kept his face straight as he met Logan’s eyes, which was tricky because he was so amused by his own joke. “And if you stick to the lace apron, you might receive more impressive tips.”

Logan was unhappy with the mention of the apron in a public place, even so empty of one, and demonstrated that with the look he shot Hank. It seemed to Logan that his friend was becoming immune to the glares that others took serious fear in receiving.

Hank might very well have brought it up even if they had had listeners, but his potential for mayhem was not revealed since their conversation was private. “Are you not proud of your domestic qualifications?” he asked in a mock innocent voice.

“Tell me something fuzzy,” said Logan in a lower voice. He leaned slightly towards the large blue man. “How much of that stuff would you have made me do if I hadn’t said what I did that night?”

Hank was stumped as to what his friend was referring. He hadn’t taken any offense that night, had he? “I’m afraid that you’ll have to narrow my options. It seems to me that I could have taken offense to nearly everything you said that night.” After a deliberate pause of consideration he added, “Or ever.”

The bar door jingled as it opened. They were at the Barracuda early; it was still afternoon and the loud drinkers wouldn’t be in for several hours yet. Logan had only just met the daytime bartender when they had come in; even Hank didn’t seem to know the man very well. He was wiry and more serious than Tommy, the bartender Logan and Hank were accustomed to.

In a way, Hank preferred the Barracuda during the day. He didn’t like always coming back to the mansion with ears ringing and reeking of tobacco or clove cigarettes. The few people that were in (there were two at the moment) during the afternoon tended to be the serious drinkers. They were quiet and gazed at his odd physical appearance with sad, heavy-looking eyes. Their looks disturbed Hank less for the hopelessness he saw than for the recognition he felt. It was definitely more enjoyable to be here with Logan, though most things were.

Logan was leaning back against the wall next to a jutting shelf of empty beer bottles. His hair was slicked up into those silly hair horns. Holding the pool cue as if it were an extension of himself, Logan looked relaxed and comfortable in a way that Hank frequently envied. For just a fanciful moment, Hank imagined Logan as the singer of a metal band. The stick became a microphone, the light-up beer signs stage lighting. Wolverine was just so cool, as the kids would say.

“I mean that thing I said about Stormy,” said Logan. Hank didn’t follow. He’d been so caught up in his imagination that he’d lost the thread of the conversation. He blinked at Logan. “You know, blue men…switching…” Ah yes, now he remembered. It had been a harsh insult at the time. Logan had mentioned that Storm had switched blue furry men, not realizing how troubling that fact was to Hank. As soon as he’d told Logan that it bothered him though, Logan had apologized, twice if Hank recalled correctly.

Hank waved a dismissive hand. “No foul on that Logan. Then again, women always seem to be _that line_ don’t they?”

Logan snorted. “They invented that line Bub.”

“Anyway, I don’t believe that your experience as a slave was as harrowing as you now claim.” Hank was actually a bit relieved that they were talking about it. It had seemed to be taboo between them and he was glad that it had been merely his perception of events.

“Oh yeah? You didn’t see the skid marks on those briefs!”

Logan smiled at the horrified reaction to his crude remark. 

* * *

 

“You sure that’s a good idea?” asked Logan.

Rogue nodded as she replied, “best I’ve had in a long while.”

The two were chatting in one of the school’s many gardens. The sound of children playing nearby gave the day a gay atmosphere despite the serious nature of Rogue’s recent decision. She was sitting on a bench that Logan was leaning against. He had one hand in the back pocket of his tattered jeans; if he stretched his fingers enough he could feel the hole that rendered the pocket useless for carrying small objects.

Rogue wanted to go home to see her parents in Mississippi. Since she had run away she had been sending them occasional letters of vague content to let them know that she was okay. They tried to assure her that they knew that she wasn’t responsible for Cody’s coma and that they wanted her to come home. If she’d only give them her address, they’d come and get her themselves. Of course, they were inviting their non-mutant daughter Marie home, but that’s not who would have been there. Rogue knew too much now to return home. She’d lived amongst mutants, seen where she fit amongst them, and spent too long thinking for herself. When she’d come to the school, long before she’d turned eighteen, Professor Xavier had encouraged her independence. There were house rules just like any boarding school, but she was aware these were necessary for peace amongst people living in close quarters. She was accustomed to being treated as an adult, a mutant adult.

This latest breakup with Remy had been a jolting reminder to her of how quickly love could turn to emptiness. It had made her miss her parents. In a way she just wanted to pour her heart out while safe in her mom’s arms. Maybe she would finally come clean to them. She would see how she felt about them before she made any decisions. Either way, she knew that seeing them would be a positive thing for her soul.

“Maybe I should tag along,” Logan suggested.

“I think I can handle myself Logan!”

Logan smiled at the ruffled feathers of his young friend. He didn’t like the idea of her going home to a house full of mutant haters. Her parents’ disgust over mutation had prompted her to run away rather than to explain that she was one. That made him distrustful of them and the effect they could have on her. She was so strong and spunky. He did not want a conflict with her parents to break her.

“Wasn’t saying you couldn’t. It’s just… well, you know how antsy I get staying in one place for too long. And I hear that Mississippi is quite the tourist spot.”

 Rogue gave him a half-smile, appreciating the cover story. “I think I’d prefer to go alone.”

Logan frowned. “Have it your way, but if you change your mind…” He let the rest of the sentence drift off into the warm spring afternoon. Worried or not, she was her own person, and he’d shut the hell up about her decision.

* * *

Hank had been laying low in his room lately. There were plenty of tasks that he’d been putting off doing that could be done outside his lab. The stack of books and papers on his desk provided him all the busy work that he could desire. He was reacting in a very counterproductive way to his own loneliness. He recognized that staying by himself in order to counter his isolation was ineffectual, but it was what he wanted. Somehow being around all the happy children at the school only made him feel more apart from his comrades, which was a sad commentary in an establishment for outcasts.

He set the fine-tipped pen atop the paper with a clack and sighed. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his closed eyes with furry palms. He’d eaten dinner by himself, the dirty plate and utensils resting atop a mound of books next to the door. It wasn’t even eight pm and he was contemplating going to sleep. The nights were too long in the time since Ororo had last shared his bed.

He felt an overwhelming urge to get out.

In a blue blur, he snatched up his coat and hat, turned off the lights, and left his room. At a brisk pace, he passed many closed doors on his way to the staircase. The adult wing was empty since most of them wouldn’t head up this direction until settling in for the evening. It was a different situation downstairs. Many kids were scattered about talking or playing games. The couch was buried beneath a mass of pre-adolescent bodies all eager to watch television. He viewed them with his peripheral vision, for he kept his head straight not wanting to attract attention. He willed himself to be invisible, not wanting to engage in small talk with anyone. He moved to the front parlor unmolested and nearly smiled as the cool night air came in from the door that he’d just opened. Outside there were a few stragglers, but he’d only received a wave or two, no attempts at conversation.

The moon was blocked by the clouds in a way that looked like a giant Alkaseltzer in the sky. It smelled like rain. Hank hiked the collar up higher on his neck, though the rain had yet to start. The beauty of the night reminded him of times that he didn’t want to think about. Wasn’t that why he had come for a walk? To get those assailing memories of her out of his head? His heart lately had felt so small. It was the being alone, which he had been years before his romance with Ororo, but this time the pain that was brought forth by the loneliness was acute. It was knowing what you could have but not having it. He tried to think about work as step by step he walked further from the lights of the X-mansion. Perhaps it was the beast in him, but he never had a problem with the dark.

He became aware of a crunching noise behind him. Having fighter’s instincts trained into him at the school, he did not immediately turn around. He evaluated the steps that he heard behind him. It was one person, someone with a good amount of weight on him judging from the loud thuds on the pavement. It was not someone trying to sneak up behind him, unless the person believed him deaf. So, feeling non-threatened, he decided to turn around and identify his pursuer.

In the darkness he saw the familiar form of his best friend, pointed hair sticking up in places. He could even see the hair on Logan’s arms silhouetted by the mansion’s distant lights. “Following me now Logan?”

Logan replied, “I couldn’t tell whether you wanted time alone or you wanted someone to follow after you, so I did both.”

Hank was touched by the considerate way that Logan had handled the situation. Before replying, he turned back away from his friend, not trusting his face to hide the tenderness he was feeling. “You can be a very perceptive gentleman, when you want to be.”

He heard Logan behind him, now walking with longer strides to catch up. “Yeah well,” said Logan. “Just kinda know you. So… what is it…tonight?”

Logan wasn’t the best at talking about feelings and God knew that Hank was no better, so even asking what had him down was a gallant gesture.

“Same shit, different day right?” Hank said, using one of Logan’s favorite phrases.

It caught Logan by surprise, though, to hear the words from Hank’s lips, especially when said with such a bitter tone. “Wanna go down to the Barracuda?” He thought that the fuzzy man could probably use a beer and some pool.

“Not tonight,” Hank said. His voice sounded firm on the subject, not that Logan was about to voice any objection.

They continued walking side by side along the road. Hank was street-side, Logan along the curb. The weeds were growing up tall over the tops of the curb. He could see them as he smashed them down with his feet. It was a walk that Logan had taken himself a time or two during times when it was just too hard to see the woman he loved in love with another. Though he was more inclined to taking that other man’s motorcycle out, holding onto it as he couldn’t to Jeannie. He hadn’t been out this way since she had died, since he’d had to kill her.

“Our thoughts are both gloomy tonight,” said Hank.

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to get telepathic,” laughed Logan.

Hank recalled Logan’s earlier word’s about how he “kinda knew” Hank. Well, that went both ways, since he could feel Logan drifting off in his own head again. He knew well enough whom those thoughts would be about and the accompanying emotions thereof. “Your steps were out of rhythm.” That explained how he knew that Logan was distracted, but not how he knew that those thoughts were of Jean Grey.

Hank thought of Jean then as well, pictured her red hair flying all around her. She was wild and untamed as the Phoenix, like Ororo, a thing of nature. He imagined two sets of eyes colored an otherworldly hue, Ororo’s a cataract white, Jean’s a despair-filled black. _That_ Jean Hank could see the appeal of. When he had seen her in that state, his blood had flowed faster and his thoughts had become erratic. She had been a beautiful yet feral creature. If that was the Jean Grey that he had known, perhaps then he could have understood Logan’s infatuation, but the woman he had known was simply not his type. Jean was quiet and nice, reserved and completely devoted to her husband. She was a dear person to Hank, but she lacked qualities that encouraged any licentious thoughts in him. He certainly hadn’t had the strong reaction to her that Logan had, perhaps infatuation, perhaps true love, it wasn’t for him to judge.

So, they both thought of the same woman in completely contrasting ways as they strolled through the night. It was good that Hank was thinking about something other than his own loneliness; Logan tended to have that effect on him. It was hard to focus to far inward with his friend nearby. Logan was always encouraging him to go with his gut rather than his head. In return, Hank often chided the Wolverine to stop behaving like such an animal. They formed an interesting symmetry.

“It’s going to rain,” Hank said. He looked up at the gathering clouds, failing not to think about a weather goddess.

“And you don’t mind being out in it? What do you smell like when you get wet? Do you smell like wet dog?” Logan grinned at his friend, teeth glistening.

Hank chuckled. “No less than you, I’m sure.”

The mansion was far behind them now. They were walking on the same road that they would take to get to the Barracuda but headed in the opposite direction. Honestly, Hank had never walked so far in this direction. They observed houses that were dark save for porch lights or homes with electronically lit curtains from the televisions inside. Everyone was tucked in safe and sound at home with their TV sets. How many times Hank had wished to have a normal life just like that: wife, kids, and the picket fence? He had a friend and even though friendship wasn’t what his body and heart were craving, it was better than nothing.

“So, why are we out walking?” Logan was pretty sure he knew why, but it threw out a nice open-ended question should Hank want to get anything off his chest.

As it was, Hank was uncertain just how much he wanted to air about his conflict with loneliness and ennui. While they were close enough that he didn’t fear Logan’s judgment, he didn’t really want it known, even if to just one other soul. There was also something that seemed infinitely insulting to complain to a friend about feeling lonely.

“I need a vacation,” Hank sighed.

Logan groaned. “I guess this is the day for travel.”

“I don’t follow,” said Hank. Logan offered no further explanation as he was too distracted thinking about Rogue’s upcoming trip. “Logan?”

“Oh, uh, sorry. It’s just the Rogue…” It was interesting how on occasions when Logan was feeling tender towards the girl, he called her Rogue, but when he felt that she was being troublesome or disobedient as a father would, then she became _the_ Rogue. Hank was fairly sure that it was a subconscious thing. Logan continued, “She’s going back home for a visit. I don’t know that it’s my place to tell you, but she’ll probably have told a good number of people by the time we get back and I know that you’d hate to be left out.”

“Oh yes,” replied Hank with mock seriousness. “You know how vital I consider gossip to be.”

“Well, you are the one that produced the apron,” Logan commented. Then before Hank could produce a retort in self-defense, he continued, “I don’t know how many other housewifely traits you have.”

Hank was thinking of a rejoinder when Logan sighed loudly. “I don’t think she should go, Fuzzy.”

“Yes, I can understand why you wouldn’t, but it is obviously something that the lady feels she must do.”

“I know that and I’m not trying to stop her. It just feels all wrong. If they really hate mutants so much that their own daughter would run away from them and hell, this is the first time she’s looked back. Makes me worry that maybe they’re not the type of people that she should be opening up to.”

Hank considered what Logan had said. He always loved the open display of affection that Logan revealed for Rogue. No one else, that was still alive, had caught his attention in such a way. It would have angered Logan to no end to be thought of as paternal, but that is exactly how he was towards the girl.

He didn’t share Logan’s belief that there was any danger to Rogue in returning home. Mutant prejudice was no matter to be taken lightly, but the only danger to her in this matter was the risk to her heart and obviously there must already been an issue there or she wouldn’t be considering going. She needed a love that only her parents could provide for her. Like so many of the students at the Xavier institute, she would have to lay that on the line by revealing who she was first. It was a hard thing for mutant children to go through, something that Hank himself had been forced to deal with. His mutation was visible upon birth, but it advanced during his adolescence. His simian qualities disturbed his parents. His father’s guilt over producing mutated sperm (he’d worked in a nuclear facility) had eaten at him as far back as Hank could remember. Eventually they came to terms with their son, even after the scientific experiment that had caused him further mutation, but it had been a long road. Hank did not envy Rogue the potential journey she had ahead of her.

“Do you plan to go with her?” asked Hank, knowing full well that Logan was.

“She doesn’t want me to.” The statement came out with a bit of a whine. He was still hoping that she would change her mind. It had happened before. She was stubborn, but more than that, she was smart and if she truly felt that it would be for the best, then she would allow him to escort her.

Hank felt his eyebrows knit together in the front. “Ah, this must be some sort of act of maturity.” Having witnessed many progressions past adolescence at the school, he could easily identify the signs. She had turned eighteen and now she wanted to become an adult.

Logan stopped walking and faced his friend. “She’s already mature. She doesn’t have to look elsewhere for family.”

The words were so sweet that Hank could not help but to pick a bit. “Logan, you can be so sentimental! Have you considered writing poetry?”

Logan felt his cheeks redden, embarrassed at being caught acting sappy. When no returning insult occurred to him, Logan just rolled his eyes. “Shut it. Let’s head back.”

Hank was feeling better now and they had quite a walk back, so he went ahead and listened to Logan’s suggestion. He watched the shape of the burly man turn towards the mansion and walk away. Logan looked intimidating in the dark, not to the Beast who was taller and wider, but the average person would definitely find Logan’s form imposing.

They walked in silence, both watching the landscape under the darkened sky. Hank held a hand out, confirming his suspicion as a rain drop landed on his palm. It was raining. The scent had been in his nostrils since he’d left the mansion and he was surprised it had held out this long.

Logan swore as he noticed the spattering of reticent droplets. Swearing was as close to complaining as he tended to get. “Wonder if it’s rainy in Mississippi.”

“So you are planning on escorting Rogue or following her silently?”

Logan shrugged annoyed that he was so transparent to someone. “I’ve been getting all cooped up here.” While it was an excuse, the thought of a trip anywhere that wasn’t the mansion sounded good.

“I understand the sentiment.”

“You should come too,” suggested Logan. “That is, if the Rogue will even let me.”

As the lights of the school became visible, Hank considered the offer. He didn’t often travel and it was even rarer to do it for pleasure. It would be nice to get away for a while. He felt terribly guilty then for even entertaining the idea of intruding on Rogue’s family visit.

The rain picked up to more than a drizzle leaving the pair quite wet by the time they stamped their muddy shoes on the school’s welcome mat. Hank noticed Logan grinning widely at him. “What do you find so amusing?” he asked, almost dreading an answer.

“You do smell like a wet dog.”  

* * *

 

The train ride to Jackson took twenty-eight hours, which felt long to Rogue, Bobby, and Hank. It felt like two and a half decades to Logan, who spent the bulk of the trip pacing and glaring at Hank for having the audacity to read the whole damned time. He wasn't sure why he found that so irksome, but the sight of Hank absorbed in the collection of pages made him want to punch a hole right through the side of the train.

Logan had been surprised by the addition of Bobby to the entourage, but caught on quickly to the reasons when he saw the extended periods of eye contact between the two young adults. Even that annoyed him. This trip was supposed to be about Rogue reconciling with her folks, not taking some kind of unmarried honeymoon. Hell, Gambit was still making a pest of himself trying to win her back, even after his cheating ways and it wasn't that Logan thought she should give him a second chance, but was it possible for the heart to change so quickly from one person to another?  Plus, he didn't like Bobby.

His claustrophobia had kicked in before the first movie was finished playing on the little screens in the corner. It was some kind of chick flick and even without the headphones to listen, he had managed to catch too much of the plot. He'd crossed back and forth from the diner car where Rogue and Bobby chatted to the seat where Hank was engrossed in some book about pollution. It made him want to scream.

"How can you read that?" asked Logan. When he got no response from his friend, he wandered back to the dining car. At least Rogue and Bobby would try to include him in conversation, not that he had anything in common with the two kids.

After ten minutes or so of following their dialogue, he would get up and seek attention from Hank. Thus the cycle continued until the others dropped off to sleep. Even Rogue, facing such an uncertain reaction from her estranged parents had no trouble snoozing as the big metal cage rumbled down the tracks. It took forever, mind-numbing, uncomfortable, exasperating eternity.

* * *

 

"Now that is a view!" exclaimed Hank as they gazed at the sparkling river before them.

Rogue had asked Logan to pull the rental car over and now she was beaming at the water that wasn't half as luminescent as the warmth of her smile. "I had forgotten just how nice it smells."

Logan raised an incredulous eyebrow, but didn't comment. He just loved seeing when that little girl that he had first met showed through the woman she had become.

"When my father took me to see it, I imagined that I could see Huck and Jim on their raft. I thought maybe if I wished hard enough, they would come up to the bank and let me on." Hank was mesmerized by the beauty of the water and did not realize at first how silly the memory must have sounded to the others. When he did, he felt his pulse in his cheeks and he coughed uncomfortably. That was quite a bit more personal than things he cared to share with Rogue or Bobby.

"So, you've always been a book nerd?" teased Logan.

"Indeed, though I do find it easier to read when bothersome little boys are not pestering me for attention." There had been a few times that Logan's insistent interruptions actually had managed to stir Hank's ire, but now that they were off the train, he was able to look at the humor in it. He hadn't known Logan to be so attention-hungry, but he must have been terribly bored with no one to chat with and nothing to read for so long.

Logan scoffed. "Excuse me for not being more interesting than pollution."

Rogue smiled at the interchange between the two. She hadn't realized that inviting Wolverine included a plus one, but she was comfortable around Beast, even if she didn't know him very well. She had taken his science classes like any of the other X-kids and he was a nice guy albeit a bit dull. It was beyond her what Logan got out of their relationship. They were always pickin' on each other, but maybe that was how he wanted things. After what had happened with Remy, she was pretty sure she was clueless about what made people choose the friends and lovers they did.

"Do not underestimate the potency of a well-told tale, fiction or no."

"Thanks for pulling over Logan, I think I'm ready to continue on," she gave a slight wave at him and walked back to the car. Bobby followed like a lap dog. Soon enough Logan and Hank also made their way back to the rental, but they made strange faces at each other along the way. Hank could always win the weird face battles, with his large fangs and wide-parting jaws.

Logan chuckled a bit. "Your face is gonna freeze like that." He opened the driver's side door and climbed inside. They weren't far from the hotel now. Rogue was quite adamant that she face whatever happened with her parents alone and Hank was griping about needing a shower. For his part, Logan was looking forward to cable television and not being in a vehicle. 

* * *

 

"You cannot possibly be enjoying that."

Logan tilted his head as if considering and spoke slowly. "Big robots....smashing stuff... and a redhead in daisy dukes?" He gave Hank a wide-eyed look when asking, "You don't think I could like that?"

Hank just groaned, plunging back into the refreshing intelligence of Oscar Wilde. Action movies were a mystery to him. He had done his share of pummeling bad guys and it had no similarity whatsoever to the poppycock in those films. When the violence was necessary and for the greater good, as happened occasionally to X-men, it was a kind of fun that action film viewers could not possibly fathom. For Hank, it was like watching sports rather than playing them. Thanks to Dr. Bolivar Trask, Hank was quite over the whole giant robot thing.

"This movie kicks ass," added Bobby.

Logan glared over at the boy who was sitting at the little table that the hotel patrons were supposed to eat at. Okay, if his tastes were similar to Bobby's, maybe Hank had a point. "Dammit," he cursed. Hank's grin did not go unnoticed by Logan. "Oh you think it's funny, Fuzzbucket?"

Hank glanced at Logan, his visible eye just above the rim of his glasses. "Feeling insecure Logan?"

"I'm feeling like a fucking prisoner. What the hell are we doing just laying in this hotel room?" He rose up from the bed and snatched up his flannel shirt off the wall lamp. He began to button over his tank top. "Get your shoes on fuzzy."

"Are we going somewhere?" asked Bobby hopefully.

The briefest of smiles crossed Hank's lips before he could control himself. There was no chance that Logan would be taking the lad along on some seedy bar hopping voyage. He rolled off the uncomfortably stiff bed. He considered explaining the situation to the boy, but he would let Logan be the bad guy; he didn't really want Bobby along either.

"Nope, _we_ aren't. The great blue drain clog and I are."

Yes, that was put about as tactfully as Hank had expected, though the interesting nickname had surprised him. "I always tip the cleaning staff very well," justified Hank.

Bobby's youthful face became crinkled with disgruntled lines. "You can't just leave me here."

Hank pulled on his trench coat and hat, no point in frightening the local populace with his visage. He saw that Bobby was looking to him for confirmation of his declaration. What was he to say? Hank couldn't even remember if he was old enough to drink alcohol legally. "One of us should be here if Rogue needs picked up."

Logan heard the easy excuse and swore silently. Well, that meant that they would be on foot then. He was just as happy with crushing the little puppy dog of a boy under his boot, emotionally of course. But, it did seem to work.

Bobby nodded. "You're right. She may need me."

The melodramatic words prompted Logan to roll his eyes. Rogue was too pretty for any of the X-boys’ good; this was the effect that she tended to have on them. He opened the hotel room sparing a look over his shoulder to make sure that Hank was following and then they were off into the waxing evening ready to explore and, if Hank knew his friend, to make asses of themselves.

* * *

 

Their endeavor of boozing it up in Mississippi took on a feel of bringing the one ring to Mordor. Hank suggested twice to Logan that they just hop in a cab, but he wouldn't entertain the option. The first two they hit had no pool table and Logan was adamant. The third one, which was already much further away than Hank had hoped for, also didn't have a pool table but was somehow acceptable due to a gritty sounding live band. The way that Logan glared at them, anyone else would have assumed that he didn't like the music, but Hank knew firsthand that being evaluated with those squinted eyes was a gesture of respect from the lone wolf. If he didn't like the music, he would ignore the band and if he hated them, they would be back outside wandering through alien streets. Hank was just glad to be sitting on a stool with a beer in his hand, regardless of the looks they were getting from the sparsely populated room.

The beer in Caldecott County was a strange local brew that came about as a result of a county ordinance that limited the percentage of alcohol that was allowed in beer. It tasted as though it had been swilled in a vat that used to contain old sneakers and Italian flavored croutons. Between that and the un-skilled performers on stage, Hank felt that he was having a very authentic time.

They occasionally talked during breaks in the music, but it wasn't long before a lady set her sights on his handsome friend. She introduced herself and then proceeded to verbally flatter him as Hank looked away respectfully. The plan for the two hotel rooms had been for he and Logan to share one and Bobby would take the other, sleeping on the floor if Rogue needed picked up, but now Hank worried that he might have to lodge with the iceman.

The foam on his beer had wilted away until only the amber filled his mug. It was a nice touch to have it in a mug; the Barracuda had less beer on tap than they did in cold impersonal bottles. He looked into the swirling liquid as if he was divining the future. What kind of futures could a urine-colored low-alcohol content drink predict? Hank set the mug down with a deflated sigh.

"So, you ready to try the next place?" asked Logan, furry chin brushing his ear.

He was surprised, looking to where the lovely blonde had been standing and back to Logan. "What about...?"

With a shrug, Logan explained, "not my type." He slid off his stool and snatched up his leather jacket. With a quick peek into Hank's mug, he added, "Your beer's flat anyway."

The strange rejected sensation Hank had been feeling left as easily as they did from the bar.

They could smell the Mississippi on the air and without conversing about it, they both headed towards the river. Their strides were close to even, being built similarly in stature, and the pace was slow, easy-going.

"That beer..." said Hank which prompted a great deal of laughter from Logan.

He shook his head. "Man, local beers aren't normally that bad. I think they used part of a football. Must be local team pride."

Hank chuckled. "It was yet another occasion upon which I wish that I possessed your miraculous healing properties."

"Face it. The envy doesn't stop there."

Hank paused as if considering. "Yes, but it seems a bit extreme to subject myself to a lobotomy just to emulate you."

"Oh, a stupidity joke. You're becoming predictable."

"I have to keep things simple for you." Hank adjusted his hat, pushing it up a bit so that he could see further down the road. He couldn't yet see the river, but the smell was getting stronger. There was no sun out, but he guessed it to be somewhere in the vicinity of 8 or 9 o'clock, but he didn't have an internal clock like his ex-girlfriend. He didn't like that thought so he brought up something else. "You really enjoy traveling don't you?" When Logan looked at him as if he was being very dense, Hank corrected his statement. "At least, you enjoy being in new locations."

"I fucking love it."

All the crankiness that Logan had been exhibiting on the train was completely gone once they arrived. It had been replaced by a subtle excitement, the longing for adventure. Walking around Caldecott was nice in a way, the exploration of new territory.

"It's kind of all that I know," said Logan, softly. The emotional intonation of the words caught Hank by surprise. He stayed quiet, hoping to encourage elaboration as they walked. Within a block or two, Logan continued speaking. "I'm not bitchin' or anything. My life's been pretty good since I joined up with Chuck's kids. I'm just sayin' that since I don't really know much about who I was before, no family or nothing, I kind of looked at things like new towns as big maybes."

"Maybe what?" asked Hank, but he thought he understood already what Logan was saying.

"Ah, you know, maybe this would be it." The river finally came into view. Logan had been smelling it since they left the bar. It was really gorgeous under the moonlight; for a second, he thought of Jeannie's eyes but he stopped soon after the hard thump of his heart. She was never an okay place for his wandering mind to go. "Anyway," he persisted, "I used to think that someday I'd find home. Whatever that means."

Hank nodded. "Some homes a person is born into, others are made, but it's part of the human condition to desire one."

They walked off into the grass. The scent of magnolias and algae were strong and pleasant to Hank who spent too much time locked up in his lab.

"We aren't really human though," corrected Logan. With a grin, he added, "Me more than you though."

Hank didn't bother to react to the jab. Instead, he took a seat on the grass close to the rocks and dirt that led down to the river. Logan remained standing, but he stayed close, swaying a bit as he watched the water. "Do you still think those things? Even after you came to live in the mansion?" he wanted to add something about having found a family, but that was something best left to Logan to feel. He was well aware that Logan felt paternal towards Rogue and he had many friends that even the man with the hard exterior had to accede to having.

Logan thought about it. "I guess so, but with less, um, hope." He laughed. "That sounded wrong. I don't try as hard to find that. I guess I've probably got a home now, but it's still missing... something."

Never before had Hank heard him speak so honestly about his feelings. It was a bit intimidating to Hank, as if he did not know quite what to do with the information. He asked more questions, hoping to figure out his role before called on to enact it. "What do you think that something is?" Hank felt that he was a poor Freud. He allowed his upper half to fall back onto the soft grass. His fingers caressed the green spears as though he was petting a cat.

Logan came down to the grass then as well, lying prone on the ground. It felt way softer than those torture devices the hotel called beds. He flipped onto his back and stared at the starless sky. Damn clouds must have been covering them and the moon was just a tiny sliver. It seemed far away. He believed that was how moons should look when traveling, like if you kept trying to follow it, it would only get farther away. "Fuck, I don't know hairball. Maybe it's this damn love thing people talk about. Humans want that too right?"

Hank was surprised by the sudden intense need he had to swallow, the saliva in his mouth seemingly absent. Had Logan hit a sensitive spot? "Yes, even mutants want love." He tried to push out the images of Ororo that bombarded his sensitive, sore grey matter. She always appeared when he felt the most vulnerable, but wasn't that being in love was like?

They were quiet for a while, lost in their individual heartaches. Logan wasn't sure why he had spoken so frankly to Hank other than the fact that he trusted the guy not to go gossiping his woes with the rest of the mansion. It seemed kind of pathetic to be whining about not being loved, especially to his closest male friend. He needed some justification for all that he had said tonight. "You want love right?"

"Indeed I do."

There was a tension that Hank could feel in the air. It was like a DVD paused right before the best scene. It was in the way that Logan was speaking to him with shield lowered, in the sight of the Mississippi river sparkling as if flowing with diamonds under the waning moon, and in the fragrance of the magnolias growing all around them. The night was expectant and he felt surprisingly weak to its will.

"Logan..." he began, stopping only because he did not know what to say.

"Hm?" came the distracted reply from the man lying on the grass next to him. When nothing further followed from Hank, Logan reiterated. "Yeah?"

Hank swallowed, vastly out of his depth with the strange emotions he was having. Surely it was the romantic setting and their growing closeness combining to form some faux sense of attraction. He would have been able to blame it on the Mississippi river if it hadn't been for that damned night at the mansion. His subsequent thoughts, lingering erotic fantasies, over the weeks that followed could hardly be blamed on the river either.

Gods above, he thought; I'm attracted to Logan. The realization was hitting him fully as Logan was propping himself up on an elbow, body maneuvering to face his friend. "You okay Fuzzy?"

He wasn't okay, in fact. Part of him felt like crying over his desperately unwanted epiphany. He had no interest in dating a man; was he not an outcast enough as it was? Oh, and to have developed some sort of crush on a friend whose opinion he truly valued. Why, it was just too unfair. He felt that he must truly be a glutton for punishment, imagining the next few months of coping with his feelings as comparable to the life of a Dostoevsky character. For he was old enough to realize that crushes were thus named for good reason.

"Talk to me buddy; you're worryin' me," growled Logan. When Hank looked his way, he said, more quietly, "Did I freak you out?"

"No..." Hank replied. His voice sounded small. He coughed. "No, sorry, I was just thinking."

Logan stared at him doubtfully. "Must've been some fucking deep thoughts."

Hank nodded. "Indeed they were."

Logan wouldn't force Hank to open up, but it irked him that he'd opened up plenty to Hank in the last half hour and the blue hairball wouldn't even do the same. He folded his arm down, using it as a makeshift pillow to rest his head on while still on his side. He watched Hank's chest rise and fall, a bit too fast from the look of it. Something had upset Hank, but he had no idea what it was if it wasn't his recent words.

"I wasn't coming on to you, if you're worried."

Hank looked at him and smiled. "It wouldn't be the first time."

Logan objected. "Look, I don't know when you're referring to Bub, but you are obviously..."

Hank interrupted. "I believe it was 'furry toes curled with a cigarette hanging from my mouth?' Sound familiar?"

As a matter of fact, Logan did remember saying something like that during their pool match. With that memory followed the shocked look on both Ororo's and Kurt's faces. "That was truly a Kodak moment. Thought Stormy was gonna lose her jaw."

The two chuckled, both genuinely pleased at the memory. "So, you said it just to provoke my former lover into a state of shock?" said Hank intending it to be a statement but hearing a question mark sneak its way in.

"Maybe," said Logan mischievously. "Or maybe not."

Hank flicked Logan a look that read "You're an idiot." He said, "And here you are saying that you've never come on to me."

They held eye contact for several moments before Logan broke into laughter. He held his non-pillow hand up in a gesture of surrender. "All right, all right! Point made! I do hit on you on special occasions."

The confession just begged the question that passed unbidden from Hank's lips, "Why?" After he asked the dangerous question, he immediately added more to it, acutely afraid of an answer from Logan. "I mean, it is not as if you are attracted to me. I am male for one thing and furry, blue, and simian for another."

Logan was quiet in response. He appeared to be thinking very carefully, either of his word phrasing or the question itself; Hank did not know which. He could hear the sounds of the nightlife, buzzing insects and night birds, over the beats of his heart, but just barely.

Finally, satisfied with whatever he had worked out in his brain, Logan answered. The entire time Logan talked, Hank found himself unable to look away from the familiar face speaking such touchingly honest words.

"You know, I've kinda wondered that myself. I mean, let's face it, I'd have to be some kind of pervert if I was into your brand of, pardon the pun, bestiality. But, as I've gotten to know ya..." he paused then, concentrating on saying the truth but in a non-hurtful way. "Well, suddenly it stopped mattering so much, the fur, the fangs, all of it.

"Like there was how you looked when I first came to X's place and there's how you look now. I think... well, I kind of see all of you now. See you, as you, you know?"

Hank was looking at him then as if his adamantine claws had just popped out from his forehead or something. It was crazy to have actually brought this up with the uptight guy. For all Logan knew, his frankness had just cost him a dear friend, but he wasn't gonna lie about stuff like that to Hank. Their camaraderie depended so much on their being equals. Also, he kept enough secrets from people. He wanted to be himself around his friend. He wasn't such a coward that he had to keep something like that secret.

"Are you... are you attracted to me?" Hank asked hesitantly, his eyes still wide from surprise.

Logan was confused how Hank could even ask that after the spectacular and incredibly spontaneous makeout session they'd had outside Hank's room. Sure, they hadn't pursued any relationship strangeness, but he felt that neither could deny the attraction there. The actions spoke louder than anything they could have said regarding the matter. "Yeah," he said.

"Oh my stars and garters," breathed Hank, his eyes closing as he rested his head back against the ground.

"Not to make you feel stupid or anything, but didn't you figure that out that one night?" asked Logan, feeling a bit insulted. After all, Logan hadn't been alone in the passionate kissing.

Hank sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose under where his glasses dug in. "I thought you were just making a point about my lack of spontaneity."

Logan rolled onto his back, grunting as he did so. "Hell of a move to make a point," he said. He was actually feeling enormous relief that he had said something about it even if it hadn't been a secret. The two of them had obviously been avoiding the topic since it'd happened. "You know, you're not as smart as you got people believing."

In the turmoil of Hank's brain, the only retort that appeared was, "Oh, shut up," so he favored silence to the proffered insult. The fact was simple; he had avoided thinking about why, because he was too afraid of Logan's possible flippancy.

"Look, it's not that big of a deal. I'm not pining for you or anything or writing your name with hearts around it. I'm not gonna lie, I had fun that night. Hell, we always have a blast. It's just that sometimes I think about things like that, you know, again."

Yes, they had kissed, for a solid five minutes at least, but Hank was still surprised to hear the words from Logan's lips. He had been unprepared for that passionate action then and he was similarly off-kilter about this honesty. Logan wanted to do that again? With ugly, ape-like him?

"How far off in your head are you fluff-head?" asked Logan gruffly. He was scowling into the evening sky, scornful of his friend's careful ways. He was bitching in his head about the over analytical bastard when he caught movement in his peripheral vision.

Hank had rolled closer to him and was looking at him curiously. Even with the intense conversation, he couldn't shake the feeling that Hank was looking at a piece of food on his face or something. "What?" he asked.

Hank laughed. "All that you've just said to me and you're asking me what?"

Logan glared. "I didn't say nothing."

"Anything," corrected Hank. "And you did."

Logan was accustomed to his English being corrected by the scholarly animal. "So, what are you thinking then?"

Hank scooted a little closer, his large form inches from Logan's side. "I am trying," he said, removing his glasses. The face look strange to Logan who never saw Hank without them, at least outside of the battle room. "I think I am trying to forget reason and go with my instincts. That can only be at your negative influence."

Logan laughed, realizing what Hank was trying to work up the nerve to do. For that reason, he reached out a hand to the side of Hank's furry face. He tugged hard on the hair to force that big blue head closer. He didn't do it gently and Hank's expression was of surprised discomfort before he was close enough that Logan could no longer see. Instead he could feel the expression with his lips against Hank's.

"Heavens above," whispered Hank, his lips moving despite their place next to Logan's. "Are we really going to do this a second time?"

The two were lying next to the Mississippi river, Logan supine and Hank prone. Their lower halves were not touching, but Hank's body, from belly button up, was pressing against one side of Logan's chest. Their faces were close enough that to anyone it would have looked like they were kissing and not whispering to each other. Hank was afraid, his heart beating loudly and Logan's matched the rhythm, but from excitement and arousal and not fear.

Logan could hear Hank's anxiety in that voice, but he hoped that he also caught some anticipation. The light fur on Hank's face tickled as his mouth moved to answer Hank's question. "Only if you want us to." He was whispering as if to a lover, which he still wasn't capable of thinking of Hank as, even in this compromising position.

"How is that you always have stubble?" Hank asked in a lighter, more playful tone.

Logan smiled and Hank felt the grin with his lips. "I can't help it. Damn hair grows as soon as I take a razor to it. Why is it that you talk so fucking much?"

"When I ought to be...?" asked Hank, he drew his face back a bit and lifted a blue eyebrow.

Logan was not impressed by Hank's display of coyness. He opened his mouth to blurt out some sort of retort but was shut up by a mouth.

The kissing was better the second time. There was no hesitation from Hank this time, no warming up. There were the two sets of lips, alternating between closed and open, and tongues and teeth and searing hot breath. Logan felt like his whole body was involved in the kiss, though it was just his mouth. The fur lacked its previous repulsion. It was just part of the kiss, part of Hank, and it became okay.

Logan kept biting Hank's lower lip and while it was turning him on, he almost wanted more tenderness. No, he did want more tenderness, but why should he? Perhaps it was the scenery mixing him up inside. Logan tasted like beer and un-smoked cigar. His undersexed body was primed like a race car engine. He didn't even notice that his engine had, in fact, started purring until Logan pointed it out.

"You're purring," said Logan, breaking off the powerful kiss.

Hank felt embarrassed at this side of himself being revealed. The purring stopped at the change of emotions. Logan grinned at him, like he'd just earned new data for insulting, which he had. Hank frowned. "You're just a big ole' kitty, aren't you fuzzball?"

Hank drew back from the inviting chest, but was quickly drawn back in by strong arms. With surprise he looked at Logan, feeling a bit silly for reacting. “Can I get you to purr again?"

With a half-smile, Hank replied, "I wouldn't doubt it."

This ceased their conversation for several minutes. Somehow Hank's body drifted closer to Logan's until he nearly covered him. The night noises became a soundtrack to their kissing as their passion simmered pleasantly. The kissing became the vocals to a song called Hank and Logan, or was it Logan and Hank? It didn't matter who could claim top billing, because they were the only two around to witness the moment for miles.

That was as far as their tryst went there by the banks of the river, kissing until both sets of lips were tired and sore, until the sun began to make itself known on the horizon. It was yet another night that they kissed into the wee hours, but this time felt so much less confusing and so much more right to Hank. Not that he had any better idea of what the two of them were doing with each other, but it had not come so out of the blue as the first time. This was also trumped by the emotions that Hank was feeling. He was happy and it had been a precious long time since he had felt this good. So, he pushed his worrying brain to the background and focused on how incredible it felt to be desired by his best friend.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm stayin' here," repeated Rogue, whom Wolverine would never be able to think of as Marie, regardless of what she was saying.

            "No you're not." It hadn't been an objection, but a complete disbelief of her words.

            Rogue crossed her arms, obviously mistaking the way that he had meant his words. "What happened to you being my friend and not my father?"

            The four of them were standing around the rental car across the street from Rogue's parents' home. Wolverine had noticed her parents peeking out from between their blinds; she must have requested that they wait inside for her. "In case you've forgotten, they are not comfortable with you being a mutant."

            She shook her head. "I wasn't comfortable and that turned out to be more important." She uncrossed her arms and took a step towards him; her large doe eyes attempting to find some understanding in his own heavily browed ones.  "They're my folks Logan and I love them."

            Bobby and Hank were averting their eyes. It was a private moment. No one was as close to Rogue, except maybe Gambit, but he was not being included in the decision that she was making.

            "Kinda thought maybe you'd come to think of us as family," he whispered down to her. The lowered voice didn't stop the others from hearing.

            The sadness that Hank heard in his friend's voice broke his heart. He had his own feelings on the matter, but he had a completely different outlook than Logan who didn't even remember his parents. Hank was quite aware of how it felt to parents that were unsupportive of his mutation and he had also forgiven them, had to, because of how much he needed his parents' love.

            Logan touched Rogue's hair, about the only thing that wouldn't zap him. "Whatever kiddo, you've gotta find your own way."

            Rogue smiled. She wasn't oblivious to the pain she was causing him, but he was right: she did need to find her own way. Right now, that meant staying with her parents and trying to fix that hole in her life that only they could fill. She was a grown adult and there was nothing anyone could do to stop her from doing what she wanted. "Logan, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have the balls to be doin' this."

            He released her multicolored tresses. He was losing her and it was killing him. "You gonna stay long?"

            She shook her head. "Don't know. You gonna miss me while I'm gone?"

            He rolled his eyes, his body swaying from side to side. "You're a hand full; do they know that?"

            She reached out to him then and they embraced. He towered over her petite figure. Hank bit his lip. Again he could feel exactly what Logan must be going through and it hurt him.

            "You need anything... and I mean anything, you give me a call."

            Rogue smiled. "I know." As Logan backed away, she beckoned to Hank and Bobby and hugged them as well, though not with nearly the same heart-breaking emotion. "All right, you three had better head out. I got a years to catch up on."

            With that, Rogue shooed her friend, surrogate father, and potential suitor away. She watched them all pile into the car with no dispute over who went behind the wheel; Hank and Bobby would have had to have been suicidal to argue with Logan in his current mood. Hank watched her figure disappear behind them, a lone girl on a lone street in the south. She was lovely and the tears that sparkled on her face were too, in their own way. She did care for them, did consider them her family as Logan had said. He hoped that Logan saw the sad face that was attempting to look strong from the rearview mirror.

&&

            Two months had passed since Hank's trip to Mississippi and Ororo Munroe was suspicious. Being a former lover of the blue intellectual, she was more attuned to his moods and more observant of his actions than most of the others in the mansion, the one exception, of course, being the man that was contributing to her suspicion. There was something going on between Logan and Hank and whatever that something happened to be was becoming more overt with each passing day.

            At first Logan had been understandably grouchy at being abandoned by his unofficially adopted daughter. Even then, she had noticed that the only person that seemed safe from his ire was Hank. Then she had observed increased back slaps and tussling, which were starting to fall out of the realm of acceptable heterosexual behavior. She'd seen the two getting back from late nights, no doubt spent at the Barracuda, the bar that Hank had never offered to take her to. Now there was this, seeing Logan, the lone-wolf badass, coming from Hank's bedroom with a great yawn at ten in the morning on a Saturday.

            Ororo was jealous, which was unfitting of a proper lady and even less so of a woman in a monogamous relationship with a man who was not the object of her jealousy. She scowled at Logan, whose jaws were just now shutting from his drowsy yawn. "Good morning Logan."

            He nodded to her. "Morning Stormy."

            She felt justified by the way his eyelids did not quite open all the way in asking him, "Not enough sleep?"

            "You know I ain't a mornin' person," he grumbled without any overt malice. Then he passed her by in the hallway and made his way downstairs.

            She huffed and looked around the hall, as if looking for someone to back up her shock and disapproval. How dare he be so casual about the situation? She turned on her heel and made her way back to the room she shared with Kurt.

 

            The light coming in from the window may not have been the brightest, but it might as well have been for how buoyant Hank's heart felt this morning. When he had opened his eyes this morning, it had been with the vision of Logan curled up beside him. His body was warm at all the places that they were connected, which were many since they were not small-framed men. Funny how his queen-sized mattress had seemed so horribly large when it had just been him in it.

            Hank purred a bit, totally content, the smell of Logan still in the air. Last night they had come in with quite a bit of clamor. Hank had drank too much while trying to match Logan's beer intake, a very stupid scheme that he would avoid in the future, and Logan had been very gentlemanly in making sure he made it into bed safely.

            _"Oh, don't be silly! I am perfectly.." He punctuated the word by kicking his pillow that had fallen to the floor. It sailed gratifyingly towards the window. "Perfectly capable of seeing myself to bed."_

_"Yeah, I'm just worried about who you're gonna be ending up with once there."_

_Logan retrieved the kicked pillow and tossed it to the bed one second before Hank did the same thing to himself. The large blue man lay on the spinning bed and smiled. He pushed at his glasses; they seemed to dig in twice as much when he was drunk. "Why, I'd end up with you of course. There isn't anyone else here!"_

_Logan walked with amusement to the side of the bed over which Hank's legs were still hanging. He grabbed the heavy furry limbs and with a swing, got them facing the bed's 6 o'clock. He then climbed atop his friend and leaned his strong nose until it touched Hank's. "Don't tell me I'm your last choice."_

_Hank smiled, more from his happiness to have Logan so close than any of the words floating about nonsensically. He licked Logan's top lip gratefully. This encouraged Logan to kiss him, which was always a welcome thing, even if it happened less frequently than he liked. His friend's mouth no longer felt strange or overly masculine. This was what kissing felt like to him now, since this was the only person he'd been kissing. Then a random belch ruined a perfectly wonderful moment. He turned his head in time to let out the gas, luckily avoiding burping right into Logan's mouth. "Sorry," he whispered with embarrassment._

_"You fucking should be. I could smell that." Logan coughed and waved a hand in front of his nose. "It smelled better when it was in the bottle."_

_Hank laughed, finding the concept of his being a beer vessel insanely funny, no doubt due to the frothy alcohol itself._

_Logan sat up, so that he was straddling Hank's waist. "Okay fuzzy, I think it's time that you get to sleep."_

_"Aw, don't go," whined Hank, shutting his eyes. "I won't try and talk about neuroscience if you do."_

_He didn't properly pass out, but he did become so tired that he didn't move even when he felt Logan shift off him. When it turned out that instead of leaving, Logan was only taking off his pants and shirt before joining him in the bed, Hank could not stop from smiling. If he'd been more awake, he would have had to restrain himself from doing cartwheels. As it was, he just fell asleep, with the corners of his mouth upturned into a moronic looking smile._

Things weren't too different this morning really, because Hank was still smiling, slight headache or no. It felt like the perfect day because he had woken up to an occupied bed. Now Logan had set off without a word back to his own room, not even sparing a small smooch before leaving. Hank was okay with that too. The way that they handled each other was without the kid gloves that two people in similar situations (his brain kept avoiding the word 'couple") might. Just because they occasionally kissed, sometimes necks and earlobes, it didn't mean that their relationship had to change. Hank was totally okay with Logan's silent exit. He didn't need it explained to him; it was time for Logan to start his day.

            He reached out a hand to the now empty space on the bed.

            If only he didn't have the full bladder of a night's worth of drinking, he would have just continued grasping at the warm spot where Logan had slept. Instead, he made his way to the bathroom that was unofficially his. He didn't even have to get dressed, since he hadn't bothered to disrobe before losing consciousness the previous night.

            In the hall he could hear the bustling of noisy children from downstairs. He picked out a few familiar voices. Children were so irreverently loud. It was probably the only part of life at the mansion  with which he felt himself unable to acclimate. He loved quiet, best for reading or researching. His lab was practically a tomb it was so silent and that was just how he liked it. When he came upstairs to where the children played and learned, it felt like walking from the center of the tornado into the debris.

            "Good morning," greeted a voice before he managed to slip back into his room.

            He smiled at Piotr. "Good morning. Are you heading down for breakfast?"

            Piotr nodded. There wasn't a meal that the Colossus skipped. It was strange for him to be running late, for anything, not just food, but Hank didn't even notice that it was late morning, having been up so late at the Barracuda with Logan. "You?"

            Hank shook his head. "I think a little more sleep is part of my immediate itinerary." He opened the door to his room. "Enjoy your breakfast."

            Piotr waved a hand to him and then walked to the stairway, ready to descend upon food. Hank watched the large man as he left and wondered if anyone had been walking around up here when Logan was leaving. He couldn't imagine that Wolverine would be sneaking around stealthily to avoid getting caught doing something so obviously incriminating. No, the Logan he knew would just walk out, not caring who saw him. If anyone asked, he might just tell them that he had spent the night fucking Beast until he couldn't walk straight. Hank could imagine that only too well. He wasn't nearly as comfortable with people knowing about their bouts of intimacy, because though it felt right when they were alone, it seemed that it would feel quite deviant if he told others. Also, they hadn't done any fucking and he disliked the idea of being viewed that way. He hadn't even been comfortable with others seeing him as a sexual active participant in his relationship with Ororo. Then he had assumed that he was just ill at ease with everyone knowing how Ororo could do better, but he didn't feel inferior to Logan. So now he had enough input to deduce that it was neither  his own self-esteem issues nor any shame over his choice in partner.

            His blankets were just as Logan-scented as when he had left and he happily climbed back under them. The sheets were covered in blue fur on the side of the bed that he normally slept on. His grooming habits, two showers a day with extensive brushing, kept his shedding down, but fur still tended to get everywhere. He grabbed a sip of semi-stagnant water from a glass that had been sitting on his nightstand for far too long. He was dehydrated; as a doctor he knew better, but he would rectify that once he woke up. For now, he just wanted to drift off and think of how things could have gone last night if he had not fallen asleep.

Logan was feeling much relieved about the Rogue situation. He had expected them to kick her out again, shattering that spunky spirit of hers. It had been two months, however, and the three of them had made peace. She was looking for a job, a hard thing to come by in Caldecott, so that she wouldn't have to burden them. Though the thought of the Rogue with a paper hat on her head asking if someone wanted fries made his blood boil, his brain told him that work was good for the spirit. Before he'd come to the mansion, he'd done lots of jobs just to put food in his belly, but they had also made him stronger by giving him practice with things and by keeping him active. Well, she was smart enough that if she did get a burger flippin' job, it wouldn't be for long. 

            He was chewing on a piece of toast that one of the kids had left uneaten on a plate by the sink in the kitchen. It was smeared with boysenberry jelly. Normally he could not tolerate food, especially sweets, in the morning, but it had looked so appealing. It looked all abandoned on the plate, sentenced to execution by trash can. It was almost heroic for him to eat it.

            Most of the morning crowd was cleared out of the large dining hall already. The sounds of the children, now packed full of calories, echoed in from the other rooms on the first floor of the mansion. He took a seat by the window, as he was usually accustomed, and sipped the coffee he had poured. Unfortunately the caffeine's jarring wake-up effect lasted only as long as he was drinking. So, he just drank it for the taste, one he had grown accustomed to at trucker diners.

            The room was for the folks who had been up late last night once the ten o'clock hour rolled in. He had seen the time on the large grandfather clock by the stairs that led to the foyer. When he'd left ole Fuzzy's room, he hadn't bothered to check the time, wasn't even sure how Hank could read the blasted analog clock with its tiny identical mechanical arms and dots instead of numbers. The really amazing thing was his ability to see what time it was in the near dark. It was never entirely dark in Hank's room because one of the security lights of the school was on the vertical ledge outside and slightly to the right of his window. Logan was a pitch black sleeper and the light had kept him awake last night. Still, he hadn't left to the double blanketed window in his room. He had preferred to just stay up, entertained by his own thoughts and the incredible cacophony coming from Hank. The man was pretty drunk when he'd gone to bed, so he suspected that under normal circumstances,  Hank didn't sleep so much like a freight train about to derail.  He further suspected that he would find out soon enough.

            "Good morning," said a thunderous voice at the table next to him.

            Logan nodded over at Piotr. From the slight glaze of the hair behind Piotr's ear, Logan knew that he'd either just worked out or just bathed. He grunted as his way of conveying good morning. The toast was long since finished and his stomach was still growling. Maybe today would be one of the days that he cooked up his six-alarm eggs. If he did that, he'd probably have to run to the store for the ingredients. In a house full of kids, there weren't often a good deal of spices or peppers.

            'What the hell,' he thought. It would be worth the trip. Maybe he could convince Hank to have some once he got up. The combination of the spicy with the hangover that he no doubt had would make for some humorous times for all involved but Hank. Logan grinned at the thought, the love of gastro-intestinal humor there despite his age.

            He stood up quickly with determination, the grin still on his face. Piotr watched him curiously. "Store," he told the Russian strong man. Not that he needed to tell anyone his comings and goings, but Piotr was a pretty standup guy who kept to himself. He was more the listening type.

            The wind from the motorcycle's speed woke him up. There was something about just hopping on his bike, the freedom of it he supposed, that just made him feel alive, even if all he was doing was fetching peppers for breakfast.

            When he returned to the mansion, the kitchen and its adjoining dining hall were blissfully empty. He set the skillet atop the stove and began to heat it as he diced up the chilies. When cooking, his mind entered a trance of sorts, automatically setting to the task of concocting a meal. It was due to this complete ease that he thought he must have been a chef at some point. Since most of the stuff he knew how to cook was spicy, he figured that it must've been some kind of southern cooking. It wasn't like he could see himself working at some hoity-toity New York restaurant, so that kind of cemented the Southern chef thing.

            "This wouldn't happen to be Wolverine's infamous six-alarm omelet would it?" asked a smooth, deep voice right next to his ear.

            Logan hadn't heard Hank come in, but he didn't react in surprise either, because he had felt the presence just before he'd heard the words. He could still smell the alcohol on Hank's breath as it tickled his ear. God alone knew why the man had such a tempting manner, but Logan knew it worked.

            His hand stayed firmly on the spatula he was using. "Yes indeed." He looked at Hank daringly. "You up for the challenge?"

            Hank loved it when Logan cooked. The ease with which he maneuvered himself around the food was sexy, though he'd appreciated it before that deviant little S-word had ever crossed his mind. At the moment though, ingesting any of the offered pungent fare sounded like it would be the end to his intestinal lining. He laughed softly. "I am going to have to decline this time my friend."

            Logan leaned in close to him. "Don't think it'll mix well with all that alcohol still sloshing around?"

            The brown bristles on Logan's chin were nearly touching his and despite the bog-like state of his mind, he wanted to close the distance between them, reach out with his mouth and kiss Logan like he had last night, a confrontation of lips, teeth, and tongues. "I..." he started to say something defensive but stopped. His libido was talking to him, telling him that the scent of coffee on Logan's breath would taste heavenly and that the kitchen wasn't an indiscrete place for such dalliances.

            Logan could see how he flustered his friend with just his closeness. Damn, Hank was so good for his ego. He wanted to reward that behavior with a kiss, but they hadn't yet been so forward in public, not even the Barracuda though he knew that many of the barflies there already suspected the two of inappropriate behavior. He threw a glance behind Hank's head to the doorway where he'd entered, just to check if the coast was clear. His heart lurched a bit when he saw there were indeed people there. Damn, there went that plan.

            He pulled his face back from Hank's, but slowly so as not to appear guilty. Once he was facing the skillet again, he called out, "Hey there Chuck."

            Hank spun as though caught in some terrible act of treachery. Professor Charles Xavier, co-founder of the School for the Gifted, and Ororo, his former beloved, were in the doorway to the kitchen looking at the two of them standing side by side at the stove.

            He quickly backed away from Logan and greeted them. "Good day Ororo, Charles." He was totally flummoxed.

            He was so preoccupied with their intrusion that he didn't notice that Logan had begun to laugh. 'Such a tight ass,' he thought to himself as he stirred the frying peppers and Hank walked over to Storm and Chuck. There was no doubt that Stormy would be able to figure out what was going on just from how over the top Hank was acting, trying to be cool. He turned a bit and called out to them. "Either of you brave enough?"

            Professor Xavier rolled closer to the stove and Logan pulled the nearly ready eggs off the stove, tilting the pan a bit for easier viewing from his wheelchair. Xavier raised an eyebrow. "Six-alarm eggs?"

            Logan smiled. "A-yup. Whaddya say?"

            Ororo had not stopped staring at Hank. Something in her brain had snapped. It was true then. Just before they had come in, Hank and Logan had been about to kiss, there in the kitchen. Yes she had seen the flirting all along, but she had never actually thought that they... that her Hank could be...

            A stick hit the window on the wall opposite the kitchen's entrance. The clack caught their attention and the three men observed the fierce winds that had started blowing outside. Ororo was too busy trying to calm her insides. She knew the tumultuous thoughts circling her brain had stirred up the wind outside. She was too old, too accomplished to be at the whim of her feelings like that. She reminded herself of these things until the wind died down and she had pushed her extreme displeasure  to the back of her mind.

            Once she had gathered her cool again, she noticed with dismay that the men were looking at her. She feigned a smile and raised a hand to rub her forehead. "Sorry, headache." It was true in that she did have a headache, but it hadn't caused the weather aberration and they all probably knew it. She was too proud to admit how upset this situation made her.

            It was Logan's look that pushed her to take her leave. Charles and Hank were gentlemanly enough to overlook the fabrication. Logan who didn't know the meaning of the word gentleman, wore on his face a visual expression of "Yeah, fucking right." She could almost hear the words being said in the little smirk of his lips. So, she placed a hand on Charles' shoulder and said calmly, "I think I might just lay down for a bit."

            "You do that Ororo. A bit of rest does wonders for the body."

            She smiled at him and Hank, not bothering to do the same with Logan, and then left the room.

            Logan didn't want to drag out the moment, already feeling that it had gone on too long. "So Chuck, you gonna give it a try? Fuzzy here is too much of a small girl to try it."

            Professor Xavier smiled. He wasn't big on the spicy food. There had been many a time that he was talked into trying something with more zest than he could handle by Erik, commonly known to the mansion occupants as Magneto. But then, that man had a talent for getting him to do things he wouldn't normally. He raised a hand at the offer. "I'm afraid that my old stomach wouldn't handle it well. Perhaps someday though Logan. As you'll recall, I did sample some of your jambalaya over the summer."

            Logan nodded. He had been impressed by the way Charles ate a few bites and then resisted reaching for his water glass, though the bead of sweat on the bald forehead had told Logan all the needed to know about the meal's spiciness. It had been a manly contest, much like his pool game with the Beast. "And you said that you hadn't tasted better," he reminded.

            Charles nodded. "Indeed. Now, I came in for a cup of tea, so if you wouldn't mind..."

            "I'll get the kettle on for you," offered Hank who suddenly snapped out of his shocked staring, as if he could still see the form of Ororo in the doorway. He passed by Logan's body, allowing quite a good deal more distance than he usually did, and fetched the tea kettle.

            "That is very kind of you," said Charles. He rolled to the window behind the end of one of the two large dining tables. It was a bit nippy for the window to be open, but the curtains were open and he looked at the grounds while the kettle warmed the water.

            Back at the stove, Hank set about pulling the Professor's Earl Grey from the cupboard. "That was quite... shocking," he whispered to Logan.

            Logan looked at his large blue friend. The way he saw it, Hank had four sides. One was the side that he couldn't stand. The boring Hank liked to talk about medicine and science. He was overly nitpicky, well-read, and well, dull. Then there was the Hank at the Barracuda, which Logan felt was the truest to the man's true nature. At the bar, he was interchangeably moody and boisterous. He bragged a lot about his game and made the others laugh with his humor which could run so high brow that it soared over everyone's heads or low enough that only the really immature would laugh. There was the side of Hank that he was just beginning to explore, the sensual and affection side. That particular part not only intrigued Logan, but made him feel as he only ever had with a woman. When Hank felt like cuddling, it warmed him and when he bit Logan's lip or scratched down his shoulders, it made him go crazy.

            The side of Hank that was bothering the shit out of him right now was this Hank, the submissive, groveling one that felt that he was just lucky to have dated that "goddess" as he had called Ororo. Logan certainly didn't see Stormy that way and he hated the way she affected his friend. In his opinion, it had been Storm that had been lucky to have Hank and not the other way around. For some reason, just seeing Hank practically a gibbering idiot that he might have upset Ororo made him want to claw something.

            "Chuck never wants my omelets."

            Hank shook his head. "Not that."

            Of course it hadn't been that and in any other state of mind, Hank would have seen through Logan's words, but he was too busy thinking about Stormy.

            "The way that Ororo just reacted. I think she thought that she saw..." He didn't finish, couldn't verbalize in a room that had Professor Xavier in it what it was that Ororo had thought she saw. She would have been right anyway. Hank could tell that Logan was going to kiss him, was growing accustomed to when those sweet moments would happen. What must be going through her head just then to have caused a wind storm? She was normally so in control of her powers.

            Logan tried his best to ignore the confused stream of consciousness coming from Hank. He slathered his now cooked omelet with Tabasco sauce and grabbed a fork. With a look to see if Hank was noticing his disinterest (he wasn't), Logan took a seat at the table near where Charles was sitting.

            Hank rolled the tea cup around and around in his head as he contemplated. The kettle's lusty squeal captured his attention and he put the little tea ball into the tea pot and then poured the boiling water. He grabbed the tea cup, which now had a few stray indigo hairs, and the pot and took it over to Professor Xavier.

            Charles was already turned around so that he could chat with Logan.  "Thank you very much Hank." He dipped the tea ball several times as he continued the conversation. "So with the holidays swiftly approaching, I felt that it would be a good time for me to take a little... break as well."

            Logan's ensuing nod was strictly out of politeness. He was too busy watching as Hank took a seat next to Chuck and then proceeded to mentally check out. If it irked him anymore, he was worried his claws might come out. 


	4. Chapter 4

As the day wore on into evening, Logan found himself growing grouchier. This seemed completely random to him. The little wheedling sensation that had started in his mind since Ororo's outburst was too far in his subconscious. He was not a man in tune with his mind's inner workings, preferring to ignore the subtleties and laud the assertive voices.

He was prowling around Hank's lab, tinkering with glass vials and swirling anything that rotated. Any signs of his cleaning escapade from months back had gone.

He cursed loudly as he tipped over a Bunsen Burner. His reflexes were just off enough that he was only able to snatch it up after it clattered to the floor. "Fucking lab shit. Do you really need all this?" He yelled.

Hank looked up from the stack of papers he was grading and pushed the glasses down his nose so that he could gaze at Logan from above their rims. "Logan, what has gotten into you?"

Logan growled. "I dunno. Probably those damn kids." He couldn't think of anything off-hand that they might have done, but it usually ended up being one of the little brat’s fault.

Hank was just as aware that Logan hadn't spent time around the students today. So, he steepled his hands and asked, "Can I make a suggestion?"

"Yeah, I know. Don't break any of your shit." Logan walked towards where Hank was sitting.

Hank shook his head. "No. I was going to say... Danger Room."

Without any hesitation, Logan's hands slammed loudly down on the lab counter on either side of the paper stack. Hank jumped back a bit at the motion and noise. Then when he saw the broad grin on Logan's face, he felt his own lips curling into a smile. "Now _that_ is a good idea."

* * *

 

 Logan ducked as the furry cannonball shot past him, unrolling and grabbing onto an overhanging virtual tree. When he looked up again, Hank was just dangling from the limb with a silly, enthusiastic grin. "Now I see that simian thing you were talking about."

"You expect me to believe you never noticed it until it I spoke of it? Come now Logan, even you aren't that slow. Well, mentally."

"Hey!" he protested. "If I was allowed to use my claws, it wouldn't matter how fast you swung on trees."

Hank flipped upside down, switching out his strong legs to grip the branch. From the new vantage point, Logan looked quite silly indeed, standing on his head. "And if you were allowed to use your claws, I wouldn't have accepted your offer to spar."

They had only been in the danger room for a good twenty minutes, just enough time for his body to feel rejuvenated by the adrenaline of play. They could consider it training, that was what the room was used for, but Hank thought of it as just a place where he could relax and let himself enjoy his mutation. Even though there were simulated enemies, cleverly hidden amongst the landscape, they presented little effort to dispatch for either Logan or himself. Mostly he had taken the opportunity to do several aerial laps around the simulated jungle environment. It frustrated Logan that he couldn't catch Hank and that only added to the fun. It was an intermediate level program, way below their skill levels, all the better since by the end they would be challenging each other, as always. 

"Don't ya ever get dizzy doing all that stuff?" Hell, just watching the other man flipping all around disoriented Logan and he wasn't the one doing the acrobatics. 

Rather than answer Logan's question, he spun cockily on the branch until he gained enough momentum to land atop it. From the higher vantage point he smirked down at the muscular man who had somehow managed to lose his tank top somewhere in the jungle. That was a perplexing habit of Logan's, the frequent loss of apparel. Ah well, it wasn't as though anyone could complain over the bared flesh, hardened sinew over adamantium; He was a good-looking man. 

Logan was breathing hard, not overly so, but he had been running quite a bit to catch up with the monkey-like fighter. Kind of difficult when he'd been having to take out all the enemies they'd been coming across, since they were primarily ground fighters. "You could have been a gymnast, well, if your tits were smaller maybe."

Hank laughed. He looked around for an arboreal path that would get him above Logan's position. In less than a second, his mind had mapped out the quickest route and he was jumping, his body unnaturally lithe for such a large body. 

Logan caught the movement, knew that their personal combat was starting a little early on this day, and took his own actions. He launched himself to the right, using the momentum of hitting a tree with his shoulder to spin him ninety degrees. Overhead he heard the rustling and crashing of Hank passing through the trees. Damn, why had he let Hank pick the program? He ran, searching for an open area. The best he could find was a large grassy area. The openness was good, but it still had those damn trees blotting out the sky, so many places for Hank to drop down from. Still, he stood a better chance there than pressed against trees. 

He stood in the center of the circular glen and waited with his head up, waiting for Hank's approach. It took some willpower to keep his claws retracted. His brain kept reminding itself that this was for training and that he wasn't in actually danger. It was a hard fact to remember as he watched the greenery above him shuffle manically. 

Then all went still. Logan hated surprises, especially when they were attacks. "I can hear you breathing fuzzy," he yelled. It was a bluff, because though he really should have been able to, he couldn't. It worked. He heard a chuckle from just behind him to the right. He spun around to face the patch of leaves that had revealed itself with laughter.

Logan crossed his arms and raised a challenging eyebrow to Hank. He could barely see the blue of his fur through the green, but it was there, moving slightly with each inhale and exhale. "Well, you gonna come down?"

"I may just take up residence here. It's got a hell of a view."

"I'm flattered," joked Logan. "But I'm not always going to be down here for ya to stare at."

With a flash of blue motion, Hank landed on the ground with a soft thud. His knees had bent as he landed to cushion the fall, but soon he stood up to his full height. There were some moments when Logan was genuinely impressed by his friend; most of these were in combat. It was a hell of a thing to see, Hank moving like a fucking blue tree cheetah. 

"Well, you do have your shirt off..." said Hank. He then felt completely embarrassed about the flirtation, an action which was coming easier to him, but was still quite foreign. It was strange how he could have his tongue in Logan's ear with less self-consciousness than saying something provocative. It was just easier for him to say things with actions and he got the impression that Logan felt similarly. 

Logan grinned less from the compliment and more from the way that Hank then looked away awkwardly. "And you like that?" he asked, stepping towards his friend.

"I'm just amazed that you find a way to end up half naked every time we..." It was becoming harder for him to talk with each step that Logan took towards him. There had been a time not that long ago when he had felt more comfortable around Logan than he did anyone else. When did he start reacting like a thirteen year old girl to the memory-less rogue? It agitated him. "...get into a situation of violence."

Logan was now very close to Hank, the scent was easy to pick up for his superhuman olfactory sense. Wolverine cologne would be a fragrant amalgamation of cigar, sweat, and musk. At the moment, there was also the scent of what Hank could only describe as sex. He looked away from the intense way that Logan was looking at him.

That was a mistake, Hank realized, as he felt pain burst from his leg as Logan kicked the side of his leg, knocking Hank off balance. In the time it took him to recover his senses, Logan was atop him and holding a fist up to his face that could easily have been brandishing foot-long knives. 

"Looks like being half naked helped me out eh?" The humor in Logan's voice was unmistakable and though Hank felt foolish, he couldn't help but agree with the situation being quite amusing. 

Hank opened his mouth, ready to unleash a scathing retort, but the fist was replaced by Logan's face and his comment was drowned out by a bestial kiss. 

It could easily have been the power rush that he was feeling that nudged Logan to arousal; he wasn't analyzing his reasons. He just felt how nice his spontaneous erection against Hank's body and how warm the mouth that was moving against his was. His hands gripped the sides of Hank's chest and he bit into the round lips under his teeth. When Hank moaned at the aggressive kissing, something they'd been doing a hell of a lot of lately, Logan moved his pelvis against Hank's. That move definitely moved into a territory they hadn't yet explored.  For some reason, Logan, as bad with others' emotions as he tended to be, knew that Hank would have had a problem with it and had avoided any below the belly button action in the fear that their trysts would be called off. Now though, he was seeing green lights in Hank's actions. He hoped he was reading things correctly.

Logan did not realize that his motivations involved any jealousy that may have been triggered by Ororo that morning.

Hank's mind blanked at the first electric jolt of Logan against him. Many times he'd been forced to make his brain do the same thing it had just done so naturally. There were just bodies, his and Logan's. The hands that were gripping his chest were tense with need and the motions that his body was suddenly making showed that desire back. In his head he was swearing in ways that could have made a sailor blush. He bit Logan's lip just as hard as the bite he'd received and the hands tightened, moving closer to his nipples. This was so different than the time on the banks of the Mississippi, not a hint of romance, just need.

He raised his hands up to Logan's smooth, strong back, and pulled the man closer to him. Chest to chest, crotch to crotch, and yet still not close enough. He scratched at that hairless back, running in lines parallel to the spine. Logan's reaction of arching harder into Hank only encouraged him to inflict that pain. When his hands reached the feel of the coarse denim, they didn't hesitate. His thumbs hooked under the jeans pushing downward as his fingers extended out, grasping at the ass, holding each cheek now halfway revealed to the open air. 

"Hey! Hold on!" said Logan into Hank's mouth. When he sat up, Hank was devastated, sure that he had crossed a line. "You trying to make me a goddamn eunuch?" 

Logan undid the top button of his jeans and pulled down the zipper, alleviating the pressure that the jeans were putting on his package. With that uncomfortable bunching out of the way, he leaned back down to Hank and pinched a blue, furry nipple. 

Hank cried out a bit in surprise at the unexpected nipple assault. His relief that he hadn't offended Logan was replaced by humiliation that he was already performing with such ineptitude. He hadn't thought about Logan's genitalia when yanking at the jeans, because he had never engaged in sexual acts with another man. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Let's prevent that." Logan's voice sounded quite thoughtful as spoke, already reaching beneath himself for the button to Hank's khaki pants. 

"I..." Hank protested. "Um, do you really think that this is... something we should be... doing?" 

The button slid free and without its binding influence the top half of the zipper came down, doing half the work for Logan. He was only partially listening to Hank's objections. The man wanted this just as fucking much, probably more, than he did. Hank just needed to learn how to let shit go. "Shut up Furball." He smirked at Hank's offended expression. "And yes, I think it is something that we should be doing. So, maybe you might consider, I don't know, _doing_  something." 

It took only a moment for the challenge to twist its way past the inactive parts of Hank's brain. He sat up with such speed, he nearly bucked Logan off, but in the end it worked out so that his mouth and chest were against Logan's and his penis, still bound by boxer briefs, was nestled beneath Logan's ass. His hands crawled all over Logan's back, going as high as the hair on the back of his neck and as low as the sagging jeans. 

Logan knew that daring Hank into action would work. He gripped onto the furry but muscular shoulders and tipped his head back when Hank's mouth roamed over his neck. As far as he was concerned, their foreplay had lasted for three months and that was a fuck of a lot more than he had ever troubled himself with a woman. He was too impatient for it now. He pulled at his jeans, tried to sit up enough to get them off, but couldn't quite while still on Hank's lap. "Fucking jeans."

Hank smiled. "Even infants can undress themselves."

"Infants don't have big gorillas squeezing the air out of them," snapped Logan. The insult didn't seem to bother Hank who didn't loosen his hold. He just reached out to tweak a nipple as Logan had done to him earlier.He did it in an experimental way, not sure whether Logan's reaction would be negative or positive. 

He didn't get the chance to find out because at that moment a thunder-like noise sounded and some of the bark from the tree behind him blasted off. He had ducked instinctively at the sound, but Logan had rolled off him. On his knees with eyes squinted in a calculating manner, Logan looked quite predatory, like his namesake. He also looked a tad silly since his jeans were still sagging halfway down his exposed backside. Silly, yet fetching. 

Logan scanned the trees that lined the glen, finally catching a subtle motion. He propelled himself towards the gunman, moving faster than his pants could keep up, and ungraciously crashed to the grassy floor. He recovered quickly, pulling the jeans up and fastening the little button as their enemy's second bullet hit his shoulder. The danger room was a misnomer in the cases of the lower level programs. Bullets were of the hard pellet variety, less threatening than a BB. Thus the shot barely ticked at his body and didn't slow him down any from running after the shooter. 

Hank watched as Logan tore off into the jungle alone. He didn't need help and Hank knew it, so he just leaned back so that the top of his shoulder blades caught the tree behind him. He was nearly reclined, so he shimmied back a bit to get more comfortable. His pants rode lower and he decided to just shirk the unnecessary cloth. He still had his underwear on, so it wasn't like he was being indecent. 

It was his favorite danger room simulation, this jungle. More than the opportunity to swing around from branch to branch, Hank loved the humid temperature and earthy fragrance. Yes, it did make his fur stick to his body when he began to sweat in such climates, but it also made him feel connected to the earth, part of something bigger than himself. Before joining the X-men, he didn't get chances to feel that way. He had always been on the outside, pursuing an education while desperately desiring companionship.

His parents had certainly not helped his self-esteem, with their guilt over having caused him to turn out the way he had, but blaming them would have been misguided. It had been up to Hank to form his identity in the face of adversity and if he did so without the assistance of another soul, that only made him stronger. All that loneliness had left when he joined Professor Xavier's team and finally his need to make a difference was being met. He was happier in the mansion than he had been anywhere else. It even provided such exotic escapes as this virtual realm.

His body still felt overheated from the exertion of twirling among the trees and the over-sexualized touches. With Logan, that sensation was becoming the norm. Every time they spent time alone, Hank felt twisted inside by want. It was the strangest relationship he had ever participated in. There was the ease of dialogue between them, a better friend he had never had; yet there were these times, the licking tongue against his, the feel of now familiar upper body muscles. It was like their friendship had two faces and both fit so well. Was that even possible? When they were around others, he was just happy to tease and laugh and when they weren't, he wanted to burrow into Logan's flesh until the ache went away. 

Logan appeared out of the trees. He looked understandably annoyed and that expression always made Hank happy. As he walked up to Hank, he said, "Next time, we kill all the fucking bad guys beforehand."

"Before?" asked Hank. He wanted to tease, because an annoyed Logan was so much fun.

"Yeah, before, you overgrown hairpiece." He dropped to the ground beside Hank and looked down at the bare legs. "Unless you always train without pants."

"Speaking of which, that was a tremendously graceful exit." He turned his head and grinned at Logan who was scowling at him. 

"I wasn't the one who pulled them down!" growled Logan. He unbuttoned the offending jeans and pulled them off, throwing them into the grass. 

They were now both leaning against the wide based tree in their underwear. It was so warm in the danger room that Hank was still sweating even without his pants. 

Hank didn't respond, only kept staring at the glen around them. Minutes passed as Hank thought of how comfortable and pleasant he felt. Finally, Logan said, "So how do we get this love that doesn't speak its own name thing going?" When Hank looked at Logan with an incredulous eyebrow raised, Logan cried out, "What? I'm fucking pent up!"

"Ever the romantic," teased Hank. 

"Oh sorry there Princess, didn't realize that you needed to be wined and dined." 

Logan had reached his waiting limit. He wasn't going to allow some computer generated gunman to cock-block him. He shifted his position so that he was on his knees facing Hank's side. Strangely, his next action took more courage than pretty much any of the other shit he did. He reached out placed the palm of his hand on Hank's dick, still restrained by boxer briefs.

Hank's head whipped quickly to Logan's curious eyes. The noises of the jungle around them grew louder to his ears as he tried to control his breathing which seemed to be stuck. He forced an exhale; it came out with a whoosh, betraying just how nervous he suddenly was. Logan's hand was still and his gaze was patient. Understanding that there was a question in the air between them, Hank closed his eyes and slowly nodded his head.

Logan kissed him, the hand moved, and he burst into metaphoric flames of desire. They ended up on the grass together, side by side, Logan still caressing him in the most intimate of places. He was scared and aroused and completely out of his element. One of his big furry hands reached up to stroke Logan's face only to be moved lower by Logan's free hand. He shook as he allowed his hand to be placed right there on Logan's erection. "I..." he rattled into the warm mouth against his.

"Shut up Hank," Logan whispered commandingly. His name on Logan's lip was so unique, no pet name or insult used. It shouldn't have excited him like it did, but there was no denying how he hardened at the softly spoken order. 

Through the fabric of Logan's boxers, he felt their anatomical similarities, felt the shape and rigidity, not so different from his own. It was still thrilling to be doing this with another man, but it was an epiphany to Hank to find that gripping a penis felt about the same regardless of the owner. Had he been expecting some alien genitalia? Did he think it was going to have arms and legs? He was so relieved to find that it was just a penis. He knew about those. Why, this whole endeavor wasn't so foreign really. What had he been so afraid of? He realized then that all the things he had said about being "perfectly okay" with homosexuality were a damned fabrication. He had stigmatized it, feared it as unnatural when this actually felt just as instinctive as sex with a woman. 

Logan was ignorant to Hank's mental light bulbs. He knew only that Hank was finally touching his cock, which had been begging him for fucking weeks for the touch. He wriggled out of the boxers, exposing his cock to Hank's bare hand or any other part of Hank's body that he felt like giving. At this point, he just wanted to come and there was something really awesome about it being Hank to help him get there. 

When Logan took off his underwear, Hank did the same and when they were both naked, he wasted no time in reclaiming his hand's former position. This time he felt the unencumbered hardness. His mind felt so freed, that he honestly was enjoying touching more than being touched. This was what being with another man was like. He leaned into Logan's lips, initiating the osculation with fervor. The taste of cigar was that arousing flavor of Logan, his friend and now lover. 

His grip on Logan wasn't gentle, automatically emulating how he held himself while masturbating. His large hand covered the soft pink flesh almost completely. 

Logan bit into his own lip at the sweet rhythm that Hank was pounding with his cock. He had never jacked off with gloves on or anything and the shocking softness of Hank's fur was intense. He attempted to concentrate on what his own hand was doing to Hank, but between the skilled job that was being performed on him and the wet mouth nipping at his lips, chin, and neck, he could feel his mind drifting into that pre-orgasmic state. As much as he wanted to just let go and allow that three month foreplay to come to an abrupt ending, he was hesitant to come so quickly and provide fodder for Hank to tease him. 

Body to body, their hands bumping into each other's as they moved up and down, Hank felt pulsingly alive. He felt the increased shudders from his companion, his lover, and he worked his hand quicker, eager to see that release. Instinct took over and he raised his lips up to Logan's exposed ear and in a burst of naughty inspiration whispered, "Come Logan, come." Ororo had loved dirty talk, an action that was as strange to him as ballet dancing, but this was Logan and Hank had no idea whether he liked dirty talk or not.

With a groan, Logan convulsed, his cock letting go of the months of blue balls Hank had given him. The release nearly broke his fucking mind. Over and over he rode the waves of his orgasm, so overwhelmingly powerful that he saw spots. He heard Hank's breath catch, watched the surprise in his eyes, as the large blue man found his own release. The two shook and shivered together, clutching tightly together on the jungle floor. 

For the next ten minutes, they lay panting, sticky, and completely sated. Logan was impressed by how long it took his vision to get back to lining up so that he only saw one of each tree around them. There were few other times that he'd come that had been that powerful. Hank had made his way to the top five definitely. The jungle atmosphere was so humid that his sweat wasn't evaporating, even after the sex was done with. He sighed happily and grabbed the other man tighter.

Hank allowed himself to be used as a large teddy bear; Ororo had done it all the time. "That was... intense."

Logan laughed. "Yeah, that's what three months of fucking foreplay can do. My balls were bluer than your fur."

Hank shouldn't have been surprised at the admission, but he still was. It felt good to have someone lusting after him. His ego appreciated the compliment.

"God damn it's hot," complained Logan, loosening his hold.

Hank's fur was wet from sweat and their body fluids, so he agreed. "We should probably clean ourselves. Do you think that we have been here for an hour?"

They had reserved the room for an hour, which was plenty of time to run through a simulation. It was a Friday night and there had been a spot open even on the short notice since most of the normal looking mutants would want to go out. Hank had taken the hour before Colossus had requested. He did not want to be rude by tarrying into the Russian's assigned time.

"Oh probably. We should give the room time to cool down anyway. It's a sauna." He sat up, his naked back presenting an attractive distraction for Hank. "My head's still messed up."

Hank petted Logan’s enticing Latissimus Dorsi softly and with fascination. He hadn't had much of an opportunity to explore Logan naked. He would remedy that next time, already planning subsequent trysts.

Logan looked back at Hank and grinned. "You mind if I get some clothes on?"

Hank bit his lip and then nodded. It was flattering enough to draw a kiss from Logan. He was motivated and so the joining of lips was brief, so that he could fetch his jeans. While he did so, Hank looked at just how gross he was, fur matted with bodily juices. The thought of putting pants over all that wasn't a pleasant one, but he couldn't very well walk out of the danger room naked and slimy. So, he too rooted around for his pants. They were a few feet away near the tree that that they had made love under or whatever it was they had done.

The jungle scene fizzled away suddenly and Hank looked around startled and a bit afraid. The room was white and empty save for bundles of clothes, both their shirts at opposite sides, and Logan smiling at the control panel.

 "Logan!" he cried out in shock.

"Relax, I locked the doors right after I shut it off," Logan assured.

The danger room doors automatically unlocked when a program was completed, so no matter how quickly Logan reset the locks, there was a moment when Hank was in front of a door that was capable of being opened from the outside while naked and covered in ejaculate. He glared at Logan. "You could not have waited until I was clothed?"

Logan strolled easily over to the lump that was his shirt. He didn't seem perturbed in the least by the minute risk at which he had placed them. "Thought it'd be easier to find them without all the fake trees. I can turn it back on if you want," he offered mockingly.

Annoyed or not, Hank did not wish to stand around in his current state arguing, so he walked to his shirt as well. He hated the idea of walking around the mansion without his shirt, but he needed to wipe up as much of the mess as he could before putting his pants back on. He lifted the white shirt and frowned at it.

A wad of fabric struck him in the side of the head with a loud smack. As it fell to the ground, anger was already coursing through him. "What do you think you're doing?" he said in a loud voice that would have been easily interpreted as a yell, if Hank ever yelled.

Logan grinned that smug smile of his with arms crossed. "You can use it. You know, for the mess. I don't need it."

It took several moments for Hank's emotions to flip as the chivalrous gesture sunk in. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

He cleaned himself up as best he could without water, tricky for fur, before dressing. The apparel felt like a costume. He was pretending to be the Hank he had been when he gone into the danger room.

"You ready?" asked Logan. He looked bored as he leaned against the wall next to the control panel.

Hank took a deep breath. "Yes, I suppose I am."

Even though Hank had told him that he was ready, Logan waited a minute before unlocking the door. He had heard the hesitation in his friend's tone. He had already seen what a terrible actor Hank was this morning with Ororo. He was kinda looking forward to seeing how Hank portrayed a guy that hadn't just had sex with his best friend. At the same time, he did like Hank, and he didn't want him to be actually unhappy. So, he paused, allowing time for Hank to summon up some courage before releasing the mechanism.

Logan stepped through the door and saw Piotr sitting on the floor opposite the danger room door. "Hey, you up next?" he asked, knowing the answer already.

Piotr smiled and stood. "Yeah, you guys went over."

"By how much?" Logan asked.

The hulking Russian shrugged. "Ten or fifteen."

Logan patted the man's shoulder. "Man, you should have Chuck compensate you for that missed time."

"A dollar a minute?"

"Oh, he's got enough money for more than that." Logan looked back from where he had come and where Hank had failed to appear.

Piotr chuckled at the joke. "Yeah, but shouldn't you be paying me?"

Logan pretended to consider the option. The danger room door finally slid back open to reveal Hank. "I tell you what, he can pick up the tab." He gestured with his chin towards Hank. With another slap to Piotr's shoulder, Logan headed away from the danger room, back to the bathroom on the wing of the mansion where his room was. He figured that Hank could do a better job at not looking just fucked without him. Hank would have just kept looking at him, incriminating the both of them with his worried eyes.

Hank watched Logan take off down the hall and thought about running after him. He could offer his private shower, but that was still his licentious side speaking to him. He smiled at Piotr. "What tab?" 

* * *

 

For the first time since that fateful Mississippi night, Hank's mind was not overloading with self-analysis. He and Logan had gone to that place that he so feared going. He had come away from it better than okay; he was feeling more comfortable with himself than he could ever remember feeling. Someone wanted him and he was amazed by his own capacity to reciprocate that desire. Within his limited romantic experience, he hadn't known that a person could be friends with a lover. With Ororo, he had tip-toed around, intensely afraid that she would uncover an aspect of his personality that he was uncomfortable showing. Logan knew his faults already, had seen his hidden habits, and was interested regardless. What could have been more flattering?

As for how Hank felt, he was charmed by Logan. It was comfortable to chat, sensual to be intimate, and fun to play together both verbally and physically. The awkwardness was totally gone, as far from memory as those days before their pool bet, before Hank had ever noticed his unwanted attraction.

Hank enjoyed the shower for a long time, all ecological conscience out the window with his homosexual preconceptions. His fur was clean and all evidence of his danger room indiscretion was erased. He had just finished blow drying the bulk of water off his fur when he heard a knock at the door.

"Just a moment!" Hank called. Though he was fairly sure that he wouldn't need to be fully dressed for the company he was about to entertain, he pulled on his tan slacks and white button shirt. He only began buttoning the shirt as he strolled to the closed door, anticipation of seeing Logan already pulling his lips into a smile. This slipped from his face the moment he saw the lovely unexpected guest.

Ororo Munroe looked up at him with eyes that had that intoxicating blend of feral and royal immersed in their depths. His confidence shattered like one of Storm's icicles hitting its targets. As always, he felt tongue-tied and clumsy, two things that Hank certainly was not predisposed to. "Ororo," he gasped. "I... um... Would you care to come in?"

She nodded, just once with regal decisiveness.

As she glided past him into the room, he could smell her scent, always so appealing. The aroma was sunshine and rain, hot desert and tropical rainforest all in one. He shut the door and felt the pounding in his heart when he saw that she had taken a seat on his bed. He had made love to her on that bed, trying so desperately hard to be the perfect lover, wanting to give her the all pleasure a goddess deserved. It was achingly hard to see her there now; the old memories boiled inside his mind making the space between his eyes hurt with the pressure.

"I came to speak to you because there are things that I need to know." She was avoiding direct eye contact, but her body language was open and relaxed. He recognized easily that she was putting up a facade of comfort; he knew her too well for that to slip by. "If I ask you questions about you and Logan, can I rely on you to answer me honestly?"

Now it was not only his heart, but his stomach, that he could feel as though in his hand and not buried deep in his flesh. He was suddenly awash in nervousness. The encounter with Logan was so recent and his newfound certainty was so delicately built that he found his palms beginning to itch, a sign of sweating beneath his fur.

He coughed. He looked down at her, waiting for an answer, and staring off to the side as though entranced by the light coming in the window. With a great sigh he said, "I'm not sure how comfortable I am with this."

"Is that a no?" she asked.

He shook his head quickly. "Has there ever been anything that I wasn't willing to do for you?"

For a second she looked at him with the smallest of a smile in the corner of her lip, but then her gaze switched back to the window. "I guess I just need to understand."

"Yes, it was hard for me to understand as well."

"Are you lovers?"

The words were so direct, which was very Ororo-like. He felt as though his entire integumentary system was reacting. Good lord, was he breaking into hives over how nervous this conversation was making him? Still, there was really only one answer wasn't there, especially after the events in the danger room? "Yes."

One of her delicate hands fluttered to her throat, as if trying to still her pulse. Her eyes shut for a moment and he worried that he had hurt her feelings by answering honestly. "Ororo..." he started but she raised a hand.

"No, I asked. There is no reason to console me. I needed to hear it. I guessed, but to hear that I was correct. I suppose it shouldn't hurt like it does."

It hurt? He dropped down to one knee before her and looked at her closely. He hadn't wanted to hurt her. Now he wished he could take back the honestly spoken words, because he could not bear to have caused her pain. He reached out a hand to rest on her knee. "Ororo, I'm sorry."

She laughed, a sound that didn't meet her eyes. She looked on the verge of tears, a thing he could not recall seeing before. "And do you love him? Does he love you?"

That question he could not answer because he truly did not know. There was a time when he wouldn't have even considered the possibility and now he knew only that what he felt towards Logan he had felt towards no other person. It wasn't better or worse than he felt about Ororo, but so utterly different as to be a completely different classification. Logan was a friend and now a lover, but were they in love? Love for Hank had always meant an overwhelming, all-encompassing obsession, but could he deny how loved he felt only an hour ago with his lips and body pressed against Logan? Oh surely most of that could be written off as lust, but Hank didn't know where the line was between best friend with physical intimacy and boyfriend. He had entered into a new world, one he hadn't even had time to explore before someone was asking him for its definition.

"I cannot say," he said. "In either case."

Her hand moved upwards to her lips, her face shrouded in thought. The absence of any negation scared her for reasons she could not even give voice to. Hank was different and for the first time ever, she felt that she didn't know him. He wasn't even sure if he was in love with another man and not just any man, but Logan. If she was surprised by any homosexual tendencies in Hank, it was infinitely more astounding to imagine Logan doing such things.

To hear that there was a possibility that Hank was in love with Logan was nearly debilitating to her nerves. She was fighting to keep control of her emotions, determined not to have another loss of weather control. Still, she could feel the slight tremble in her hands. A sure sign that she didn't have the kind of control she needed.

"Ororo, are you alright?" Hank asked, gripping her leg tighter. He could see that she was shaking.

"Oh Hank," she rattled as a tear leaked from one of her exceptional blue eyes. Her arms wound around his shoulders and before he could comprehend what was happening, he was holding the crying woman, running a comforting hair down her silky white hair. He was bewildered and yet sad, even as uncomprehending as he was.

He began making little shushing noises, unable to think of any more logical words. He simply had not the foggiest idea of what was wrong, why she should be in tears over his dalliances with Logan. Even in his confusion, he couldn't ignore how good it felt to hold her, how welcome that wild fragrance was to his nostrils. Then he was remembering how nice it was to kiss her lips and it wasn't just reminiscing, because their lips had somehow managed to come together somewhere in the middle of this emotional outburst. All he'd been doing was holding her and now he could feel the softness of her kisses and taste the salty tears.

Ororo pulled back sharply as soon as she became conscious of what she was doing, of what she had started. She stared into Hank's wide eyes as her hand covered her misbehaving mouth. She had initiated the kiss as if the past ten months with Kurt had never happened, as if she was an unattached low-moral woman who was perfectly content with moving in on another man's lover. Hank wasn't just some taken man though, he had been hers and she was consumed by the regret of letting him go. She didn't realize it until this moment how much she had missed him.

"Oh Hank. I am so sorry," she gushed all at once, her hands making exaggerated movements in her shock. She rose quickly from the bed, her knees bumping against him as she did so. He watched as she scurried to the door and he rose to follow. "I am so sorry," she repeated.

"Ororo," he called as her hand gripped the doorknob. "Wait."

She shook her head. He could hear her breathing, as if she had been running and not just kissing, but then it had had a similar effect on him. "I... I need to think about this. Time to think about what I'm feeling." She wiped at her eyes, the streaks glistening on her deep brown cheeks. "I will come back. Please forgive me."

"I forgive you," he said quietly. Regardless of what had occurred in the last five minutes, not that he felt there was anything for which she needed to apologize, he would forgive her in all situations.

She nodded and pulled open the door. She nearly took a step back when she saw Logan in front of her. He looked just as surprised to see her and they stared at each other for very long seconds before she slid past him, not even bothering to make an excuse in her haste. She headed towards the stairs in a pace quick enough to be nearly running.

Logan watched as she jetted off. She had been crying; he could tell from the red lining her eyes and how large her nose had looked, probably full of snot. With a curious look, he peeked into Hank's open room. Hank was standing agape just beyond reach of the door, looking in astonishment at Logan, but he got the impression that it wasn't him that Hank was surprised to see. He looked back to the now empty hallway and then back into Hank's room. "What the hell is up with Stormy?"

Hank rubbed his forehead before turning hurt eyes towards Logan. Even though he hadn't been there, Logan got it. "I see," he said. In that competition, he was always gonna lose out. He swallowed at the hard lump in his throat. What had been a great day now turned into a bitch of a night. It took courage, but he managed to say, "Be careful there, Fuzzy" before heading off down the hallway. He had planned to visit with Hank, but those times would be over now. If Ororo wanted Hank back, that was it. He hid his hurt, an almost electric pain, deep down and walked away.

It seemed impossible, but Hank felt more alone than he had before being kissed by two different people in one day. He closed the door and ruminated.


	5. Chapter 5

Three weeks had passed since Ororo Munroe broke off her relationship with Kurt Wagner. It had been a little over two weeks since word spread that she had been spotted kissing her ex-boyfriend Hank McCoy in the infirmary. In the past three days, Logan had been notified by four different people, who twittered around him like caffeinated parrots, that Beast was now officially Storm’s boyfriend. Today, as he had every day since witnessing Storm leaving Hank’s room, Logan interacted in a completely typical way with the newly reinstated Romeo. Nothing was wrong, everything was fine. Everything was normal. He was fine.

“Rogue’s lonely, I think. Heard from her last night.” Logan was relaxing back into the comfortable armchair in the study. It was mid-day and the kids were attending classes. Hank had just returned from a mission that morning and Logan saw nothing wrong with distracting him from the book he’d been tucked into. Besides, reasoned Logan, he couldn’t have been any more distracting than Archangel thunking at the piano.

“I’d be surprised if she didn’t feel a little homesick,” replied Hank. He suspected his friend was projecting a bit. She was with her family now, after all, and though she probably missed her fellow mutants, her new job was probably keeping her busy enough during the day.

Logan toyed with a loose stitch in the fabric of the armchair. “Yeah well, she can always come back home.”

The petulance pleased Hank. “That’s probably what her parents told her.”

Logan glared at him. “They don’t even know who she is.” He shook his head. “That’s not good for her to be hiding like that.”

“She’ll tell them if she wants.” He toyed with the page he had been reading. Tavis Smiley’s description of the final year of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s life would have to wait.

“I know that!” gruffed Logan. “Why does everyone act like I’m an overprotective father?”

Tapping a finger to his temple, Hank asked, “Because you’re acting like an overprotective father?”

“Oh shut up.”

Hank smiled. Logan considered flipping him off.

Everything was normal.

* * *

 

Hank had an itch to go to the Barracuda. He hadn’t been in a while and he wanted both to play some pool while drinking beer and to let everyone down there know that he wasn’t dead. He couldn’t remember a time that he’d been away from the bar for so long, not even on extended missions.

He watched Ororo hang her clothes. Even performing such a mundane act she moved with an elegance that captured the eye. She wore only a simple slip and the white contrasted against her dark skin. Her feet were bare and he noticed that her toes crinkled, gripping the carpet as she placed each hangar. He hoped she wouldn’t mind his absence. Her feelings were the primary reason he hadn’t been going to the bar. He didn’t want to give her the impression that he didn’t want to spend every waking moment with her. He feared hurting her by wanting to do something of which she wasn’t a part.

“Hank, you are staring.” It wasn’t an uncommon phrase to fall from her lovely lips.

“I was thinking.”

She wrapped a brown, orange, and yellow batik fabric around one hangar several times to keep it in place. “About?”

He sighed, reluctant to admit his restlessness. He set his book on his knees; he hadn’t been reading it anyway. “I was thinking about going to the Barracuda.” He waited as though expecting a violent objection from his girlfriend. This expectation was completely contrary to her temperament so it was quite an irrational fear.

She looked at him curiously. “Were you thinking of going alone?”

“Yes, of course.” He could not invite Logan with him to his sanctuary right now, not with how hard it was to look his friend in the eyes. Once he got past his guilt and embarrassment over their little tryst, then he could think about sharing a pool table with the man again.

Her fingers, long and slender, adjusted the straps of a flimsy dress that he had not seen her wear, the notches of the wooden hangar capturing the thin strips of fabric securely. “Ah. I had hoped that you might feel moved to invite me at some point.”

His brain lurched inside his skull; at least, that was how it felt. There was a disconnect between the environment of the Barracuda and the force that was Ororo. He looked at her in panic until she laughed at him. The sound was as pleasant as she was, a tinkling like a tiny bell. “Mister McCoy, it’s okay!” She knelt before him and rested her hands on his. “You do not have to share your haven with me. I just wish I could be part of all areas of your life.”

The words “You don’t belong there,” sounded like he was protecting the bar but he wanted to protect her. She didn’t need to be in a seedy place with a rat infestation and glassy-eyed alcoholics. He should not even have been going to such a place but it was a character weakness of his that impelled him. He tried to explain. “It’s not a good enough place for you.”

She smiled. “I do not have to take up residence there.”

“If you wish to go, Ororo, I will escort you but I cannot think you’ll like it there.”

He sounded so resolute that Ororo nearly lost her nerve. She knew that Hank liked to keep his barfly persona separate from the one at the school, but he had let his last lover go there and if Logan had been let in, then she wanted to be as well. It would be too telling if Hank opened up more to that scruffy wanderer than to her. Besides, she had been patient enough. “I will like it there because you will be with me. And, if it is too uncomfortable having me there, you do not ever have to bring me back.”

Hank nodded, worried.

* * *

 

“I believe it’s your shot.”

The men in the bar were watching Ororo which meant that Hank was watching them. He hadn’t caught her words at all, but when he did finally turn his attention back to her, he sensed that he’d missed something. “Did you…?” he started.

“Yes. It’s your turn.”

The sharpness in her voice made him wince. “I apologize.” He quickly moved into a position behind the cue ball and eyed his options. He had not intended to ignore her, obviously, and he felt a bit insulted that she wasn’t seeing his reasons for distraction. Logan would have referred to it as “eye-fucking,” the actions of the lecherous bar denizens.

Chris had been the only idiot to actually converse with her but only after he’d dug an elbow into Hank’s side and said, “Well, she’s a step up, ain’t she?” He’d wanted to ring the loquacious nitwit’s neck. Hank had been able to feel Ororo stiffen at the comparison, even though it was favorable, to his former pool companion, his former lover.

Instead of killing Chris, he’d introduced him to Ororo. Smartly, she’d tipped a chin at Chris rather than accept his proffered handshake.

Head completely not in the game of pool, Hank missed the ball he was aiming for because his arm jerked at the last second. He cursed.

Ororo frowned. “Perhaps you would prefer to dance?” she asked, her hand pointing to the jukebox.

Dance? In this place?

Ororo tried to ignore the expression of incredulity on Hank’s face in the same way that she had been attempting to ignore the territorial glares he was giving all the other men, the missed pool shots, and the way Hank’s shoulders aligned with his ears. This was not fun. “This was a bad idea.” She said as gently as the music would allow.

“I agree,” Hank said. He immediately replaced his pool cue in the rack along the wall.

Ororo was well-acquainted with the bad moods that afflicted Hank so frequently in public. She’d suspected that he would be less prone to them here, his man-sanctuary, but it was hardly that now that she’d invaded it. She followed his lead, returning the cue and gathering her coat. When they reached the door, they were accosted one more time by his obnoxious drunken associate.

“Leaving already?” the man slurred.

Hank assisted Ororo with her coat as he answered Chris curtly. “Yes.”

Even through his ever-present haze of inebriation, Chris caught the mutant’s no-nonsense tone. He backed up, permitting the two to exit through the door.

Hank felt as though they’d escaped. He breathed the fresh air and enjoyed a second with his guard down. Never had he felt so on edge at the Barracuda. On the stroll back to the mansion, Ororo alternated between anger at herself for having asked to go and Hank for being as insufferably jealous as he always used to be.

They slept in Ororo’s room that night but the air was quiet and tense.

* * *

 

Rogue, known to her family as Marie but still self-identified by her X-men name, played with a silver pen. She pushed it to the top of her office desk with a single glove-tipped finger and watched it roll slowly with the tilt of the surface. Her other hand caught the pen as it rolled off. She repeated this fifteen or so times before letting out a bored sigh.

The waiting room to her father's dental practice was empty, so no one heard her over the saliva sucker lustily gurgling behind the obscured glass that read Fred Agnew D.D.S.

She glared in annoyance at the empty peach-colored plastic chairs and stacks of moderately thumbed through magazines. So, she thought, this is normal life. It was a thought that she had been having every few minutes for the last few months.

The phone rang. She pulled her appointment planner closer and answered without enthusiasm.

* * *

 

Things managed to get worse between Hank and Ororo the next evening when he asked if she would be comfortable with him going off to the Barracuda alone. The tension could easily have been allayed by good communication but for some reason Ororo felt spiteful and did not vocalize her reaction to the request. Instead, she behaved according to stereotype, saying that it was “fine.” It wasn’t long after he left that she began to kick herself for her immaturity. If she had been forthcoming about her feelings they could have discussed the previous night, a severely overdue conversation, aired their grievances, and been done with it. She resolved to do just that when he returned.

* * *

“No supermodel tonight?” asked Chris.

Hank shrugged. He was sitting at the bar absent-mindedly watching a basketball game on the ancient 13” TV in the corner. It was a pre-recorded game but it wouldn’t have excited Hank if it had been live. It was just something to watch as he drank his beer.

Chris pulled up a stool beside him. They sat and watched the inane sport and drank in blissful quiet. It felt strangely nice to Hank, as though his friend was supporting him in his disheartened mood.

By the time that the Barracuda’s sharp-tongued proprietor asked, “Where’s your hunk?” Hank was buzzed and relaxed.

His face soured at her question. “My hunk?”

Connie was cunning and had a self-serving personality that stopped her from forming bonds with anyone. Hank had once had an extended conversation of analysis with Tommy about the bar owner’s emotional hang-ups. He’d found Tommy’s observation “For her, love is a weakness,” to be surprisingly astute. She liked Hank and liked Logan, though the latter in a more… provocative manner. “What’s going on, Hank? Did you break up?”

Hank suddenly found the coaster under his mug to be the most visually fascinating object. He ran a blue thumb over a corner. It peeled back slightly.

“He dropped Logan for his ex-girlfriend.”

The words, spoken so easily and inappropriately from Chris’s mouth, made Hank fumble his hold on his beer. It spilled out of the bottle, a geyser of wheat and yeast and hops. Connie had a rag on the spill before the apology could fall from his lips. It did, though, and profusely. His embarrassment had manifested and was being absorbed by the stained towel.

After tossing the wet rag in the sink, Connie rounded on him angrily. “Are you fucking kidding me? You motherfucking idiot!”

It wasn’t the first time she had yelled obscenities at him but it was the first time that she was genuinely angry at him. He looked to Chris for support and saw only melancholy agreement in his friend’s expression.

Connie shook her head, pretty blonde bobbed hair swishing against her ears. “You tryin’ to be one of the miserable Eeyores that come in here?”

It sounded rhetorical, yet she waited, so he answered, “No…”

“Then why, by Cassandra’s Elongated Clit, would you throw away the man you love for yesterday’s garbage?”

There was so much wrong with what Connie had just said. He disagreed about every word, except the colorful metaphor over which he would puzzle once he was calmer.

“Ororo is not yesterday’s garbage. She is a goddess! I was lucky to have her companionship once, let alone to be given more time with her!” His voice was raised and he could feel the eyes of at least three total strangers behind him. He wasn’t drunk enough not to care and not sober enough to quiet.

“Ooh, more time in the company of her holiness!” rasped Connie sarcastically.

 “Actually, she was pretty hot,” mumbled Chris. Both verbal combatants ignored his interjection.

“And when this fickle goddess of shit dumps you again?”

“Then I will be grateful to have…”

She interrupted, her cheeks rosy with emotion. “I will be grateful…” she mocked. “How nice of her to allow you to date her. Hell, who wouldn’t want a fucking lackey worshipping them?”

Hank stood up quickly from the chair. The spinning this caused in his head inconsequential next to the rage that boiled inside him. “You can say anything you want about me, but not Ororo.”

“Fine!” she yelled, slamming her palms onto the bar. “ _You_ threw away the best thing _you_ ever had!”

Hank left. He didn’t grab his trenchcoat and he didn’t stand there arguing.

As the door swung closed behind him, he heard her yell, “She ain’t perfect, Hank!”

He crossed the gravel parking lot. It crunched satisfyingly beneath his feet. Rage filled his body, clouded his eyes. He swore off the Barracuda and Connie and Chris and that part of his life. Evil scathing words perched on his tongue like birds of prey. He wanted to go back and unleash the verbal flock, let her see how she liked being belittled. He had enough ammo, thought that he knew enough about her that he could hurt her.

The walk back to the mansion wasn’t long enough to cool his ire, though individual thoughts of vengeance vanished with the scent of cigar. His eyes sought to confirm what his nose had already identified as Logan - a shadow on the small terrace outside the double doors of the library. Hank could easily have slipped into the mansion unnoticed, probably should have in this mood, but returning to Ororo like this, liquored up and mad, would be worse.

He made his way to the terrace, Logan spotting him almost immediately, a fighter’s attentiveness.

“Hey, Fuzzy.” Even with the doors closed behind him, the sounds of raucous children and young adults broke through the air. The occasional clack of billiard balls and cheers from inside only emphasized how quiet it was outside.

“Logan,” Hank acknowledged. His furry hands dug into the pockets of his Dockers. His fingers rubbed the keys they found. He watched Logan inhale a puff of the sweet-smelling cigar. The smoke circled like a snake around Logan’s leather jacket before drifting into the night.

“You okay?”

The question made Hank laugh. It wasn’t a pleasant sound but it felt good. One thing about Logan, Hank knew he wouldn’t have to answer anything he didn’t feel like answering. He wouldn’t have to be on good behavior like he was around Ororo and he didn’t have to hear a grocery list of his personal flaws, not any of the ones that mattered anyway.

Hank took a seat on the waist-high stone wall that circled the terrace. “Why do your cigars always smell sweet? They don’t taste sweet.” His voice sounded petulant. He blamed the beer.

Logan squinted at the cigar in his hand. “I dunno. Depends on the brand.”

“What brand is that?”

Logan continued his examination of the cigar. His finger chipped at a black smudge. “Uh, I think it’s a Victor Sinclair.”

The coils of rage were unwinding in Hank’s stomach. He was not much of a smoker himself, but he never minded Logan tasting like tobacco. It just seemed to be part of the package like Logan’s ever-present chin scruff.

“You know,” Logan said. “I heard that Chuck’s gonna go to South America tomorrow. Maybe I should ask him to pick me up something that doesn’t taste like car tire.”

“Careful, you would not want to be seen as a connoisseur. Heaven forbid that The Wolverine be viewed as… snobby.” Hank smiled.

Logan snorted. “That’s all your turf, Bub.”

It was always so easy to talk with Logan. For a second, a thought flitted across his mind that was so unnerving that his hand actually rose to his temple. His heart pounded and for the first time since she’d spoken, he had a flash of fear that Connie’s words may not have just been spiteful meddling. “I… I’m going to go to bed.”

Though he felt that he had Logan’s curiosity up, his friend merely wished him a good night.

Hank fled from Logan and from the thought, ‘I wish it was this easy with Ororo.”

* * *

 

“You mind?” asked Jubilee. Her eyes indicated the seat next to him. Logan shrugged. The evening was in full swing and the study was pretty packed. It was mostly the older folks crowding around the pool table or chatting in smaller groups. He’d been kind of lucky to get a seat all to himself.

She practically jumped onto the bench. He looked at her in surprise. Always so much energy in that gal. He thought they should find a way to bottle it, it’d serve as a good substitute for coffee.

“You alright?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He’d asked the same thing of Hank, but gotten no response. The way his friend had behaved worried him. He was trying to chalk it up to the booze that he’d reeked of, but Hank had seemed pissed when he’d come up the lawn. He wondered if maybe Hank’d had a fight with Storm. He partially liked that thought. Anyone could see that she wasn’t gonna stick around forever, so the sooner she left the better, but Logan also didn’t want to see his lovesick friend go through too much shit before she did. “Just thinkin’.”

“About unicorns?” Jubes asked teasingly.

“Yeah, unicorns are… I don’t know, pointy?”

She laughed and he smiled. Nightcrawler, who was nearby joined the conversation with, “You’ll notice that he did not say ‘horny.’”

Logan rolled his eyes. Jubes, however, ran with it. “Then how come they’re so rare?”

Kurt pretended to consider though he was always so fast that Logan guessed he’d known what he was gonna say right away. “Mutants are rare too and I would say that some of us are definitely… pointy.”

The three made small talk for a while with topics ranging from movies to missions. Small talk made Logan feel antsy, like he should be doing something rather than slack-jawing it, but at the same time, it was nice to be included. Eventually, he bid his goodnights and left the busy study.

He took a detour on his way back to his room and was happy to see Professor Xavier sitting in his office alone. The room was lit only by a single desk lamp. The light cast a menacing shadow behind the professor, a larger than life representation of how many of the children saw him.

“Late night,” called Logan.

Charles looked up and smiled sheepishly. “Yes, I suppose so. Please, come in, Logan.”

Logan shut the door behind him and eyed a place to sit. The chairs were leather and their wood matched the mahogany desk. Xavier’s office was simple, no trinkets or plants. Logan liked it even if it did feel a bit like a mausoleum.

The professor straightened some paperwork and touched the keyboard of his laptop. “I was just about to finish up. Getting things ready for the trip tomorrow, you know.”

“Yeah, I remember you mentioning it.” His fingernail dug into the heel of his boot, scraping the black material absent-mindedly. “Venezuela, right?”

“Good memory.”

Logan laughed. “You do remember who you’re talking to? The guy with amnesia?”

Charles smiled. “Of course. Well, if the negotiations go as I expect them to, we will be making regular trips there to oversee my plans.”

“Sounds good to me. It’d be nice to get away from all the damn rain.”

“I too will be glad to see the changing of the seasons,” agreed Charles. “It has been a particularly wet winter.” He shut his laptop and removed a thumb drive before putting it into a carrying case. “So, I heard that Ororo and Hank have resumed dating.”

It was a good thing that Logan had not been drinking any liquid because no doubt the Professor’s words would have resulted in a spit take. He coughed and said, “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be the type interested in the rumor mill, Chuck.”

Professor Xavier’s waved a hand dismissively. “Unavoidable in a close-knit community such as ours.”

“I see,” said Logan. He squinted at the older man suspiciously and with good reason because the next words out of Charles’ mouth, while spoken casually, were anything but.

“I had been rather under the impression that his heart lay elsewhere.” He steepled his fingers together and waited to see the impact of his words.

Logan would never have suspected the professor of being a busybody. “Hey, I’m not gonna sit around with you and gossip about the Beast’s love life.”    

Time passed in silence. Professor Xavier waited with the patience he used in dealing with his students. Finally, Logan sighed. “What do you want me to say?”

“What do you feel like saying?” He leaned back in his black leather office chair. “You’re under no obligation to me or anyone else to say anything.”

Logan could not meet the other man’s eyes. Instead, he stared at the neatly arranged paper stack. He willed them to fall over, but he wasn’t Chuck and he wasn’t Jeannie. He was just Wolverine, a mutant that could take a hell of a beating.

“You know how he sees her. C’mon, no one can compete with that.” The words hurt to say casually, but they needed to be, to lessen how much he was feeling them.

“And it appears that no one is trying.”

From across the desk, Logan and Charles locked eyes, a sparkle of challenge in the older man’s eyes. For a second, Logan bristled; the words worked, made him want to take up the dare. It was the childish part of him, the part that Hank referred to as petulant. Then, it was as if he was looking from the outside of the situation in, with this amazing mentor who had the ability to control minds and move objects daring him to try and court a blue-furred scientist. He laughed. It was an open, mirthful laugh with not a hint of reservation. Soon, Charles joined him, though he was more subdued in his amusement.

“All right, Chuck,” Logan said, wiping at the corner of his eye and coughing. “I get what you’re saying. You can be a real pain in the ass.”

“The sentiment is shared, Logan.”  

* * *

 

The next morning Logan headed to the infirmary with a goal. It was so obvious once Chuck had pointed it out. He hadn’t fought for Hank because he’d been assuming that Ororo was what Hank wanted. It was true enough too, Logan knew, but he also knew that she wasn’t what was best for Hank. He’d been operating under the conviction that whether or not a girl was right for a guy was up to the guy and no one else. Well, fuck that. Logan was Hank’s best friend and well, sort of his… well, they were more too. It was still Hank’s choice, no one was disputing that, but damned if he was just gonna bow out without even letting his best friend know that he was putting in his bid.

So, with a purposeful swagger, Logan entered the infirmary, rapping with his knuckles on the doorway. He was in luck; the room was empty except for that one kid who always got the nosebleeds and his doctor, the furry trophy himself.

Hank heard the knock and looked up at Logan with a smile. He pushed up his glasses. “I’ll be right with you, Logan.”

The kid, Logan thought his name might be Fred or Ted or Ed or something, was holding a white rag to his face and tilting his head back.

“We have been over the dangers of nose picking. Are you at least using the saline spray?” Hank asked the small patient.

Ted shrugged. “When I remember to.”

“Obviously that method is not proving to be terribly successful. Perhaps you should download an app for your phone that can remind you of such an activity?”

Logan grinned. He walked around the two and took a seat in the comfortable swivel chair that Hank used. It made him feel studious, watching the infirmary from this vantage point. ‘I should have become a doctor,’ he thought, ridiculously. Hell, for all he knew, he had been a doctor.

Fred was still making excuses. “I don’t have money for an app.”

“I am sure that there are plenty of free ones,” prodded Hank. “Unless you enjoy the taste of copper?”

The kid groaned. “Okay.” He pulled the rag off and Logan saw how blood-smeared it was. Gross. “I think it’s stopping.”

“Good, make sure to rinse it with the saline solution before returning to class, okay?”

Ed agreed and left the room, still pinning the cloth to his nose.

“You should threaten to cut off his pickin’ finger,” suggested Logan.

Hank smiled at him. “I believe fear-based tactics are your instructional method.” He joined Logan around the cluttered desk. “You’re in my chair.”

“Oh, forgive me!” Logan jumped up and mockingly made bowing motions.

Hank headed to the chair, ready to take it over but Logan stopped him with a hand gently touching his arm. His head cocked to the side, surprised by the contact and, undoubtedly, their proximity. “Logan?” he asked.

Logan was unable to not smile, was not able to keep the brightness from his eyes as he said, “I came for a reason.”

Concern darted across Hank’s features. “Are you hurt?” he asked. The worry on his friend’s face pleased him.

“I have come to say,” he started. The nerves jumbled up a bit then, but Logan had said way stupider things in the past, what was one more? Plus, if he failed at this, then that just meant that he was back to where he was before – minus one blue hairball. “I want to be Storm’s competition.”

Hank blinked at him. It was pretty obvious the poor egghead was stumped as to what Logan meant.

“I want things like they were before she changed her mind about ya.” Logan made a back and forth gesture with his hand to indicate the bond between the two of them. “With you and me. I want to compete with her for you.”

The confusion in Hank’s eyes turned into a softness. The corners of the big blue lips quirked upwards. Then, they suddenly went the opposite direction and his brows knit together. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

Logan sighed. He knew better. He’d told Chuck as much. No one could compete with her royal highness. He blinked rapidly because for some reason his eyes were starting to sting. He dropped the hand that had still been resting lightly on Hank’s arm. “Right,” he said brusquely.

The smile returned to Hank’s face, brighter and more devious. “Because it was mutually decided last night that she remove herself from the competition.”

What? Had he heard that right?

Hank crossed his arms across his chest smugly. A pen pushed up from the top of the pocket of his button-up shirt. The nerd always had one handy.” It seems,” he said pausing for effect. “I am too infatuated with my best friend.”

Logan had been a fighter for many years, probably more than he realized. He had survived in situations where he was vastly outnumbered, moved at speeds that a man carrying adamantium weight shouldn’t have been able to achieve. Never once, had he moved as quickly as he did now, grabbing Hank and pulling him in for a kiss that he felt he’d earned.

There were lips and tongues and the feel of manly chest against chest. Logan felt strong and alive and wanting. The hands that gripped his back did so tightly and with possessiveness. Hank’s breath was warm and familiar, the rhythm of their kiss like a song memorized on a piano.

“You should lock the door,” panted Logan. His hands were already traveling to places on Hank that were not really public-friendly.

“Not here,” hissed Hank. “My room.”

Logan liked that invitation. 

The details of how they got to the bed, naked, groping, and kissing were a blur. There was the pain on the back of his head when Logan had kissed him against the door as they were coming in, as though they weren’t in a hallway where people traversed. There was the laughter that bubbled up from Logan’s chest when he pulled the lubricant and condoms from a drawer, purchases made the night following their Danger Room venture and about an hour of research on the internet about anal intercourse. There was when Logan had left his side for a brief moment to open the window since it had gotten so bloody warm in the room. And then, then it was the two of them, skin against skin and Logan grabbing the lubricant bottle as Hank, too embarrassed to watch, licked the available skin between his neck and nipple.

And now, this was Logan inside him, making love to him or fucking or whatever crude verb this man could concoct for the single mind-shattering reality that the two of them were now connected. Like batteries polarized end to end, plus to minus, the distance between them was negligible.

"You're.... You're..." but he couldn't bring himself to say the word "inside." Perhaps it was just too vulgar like a line from a pornographic film or too sappy because if he said it, surely Logan would hear not only the wonder in his voice but also the romance of it, the intensity of it.

The warm breath on his face glided Logan's words across his skin. The "I know," slid down Hank's neck warming the fur on his chest.

What did Logan know? Did he know how powerful this was? Did he really understand the ramifications of this base, carnal connection? He gazed up into Logan's wide-pupiled brown eyes and immediately wished that they had chosen any other position but face to face. For there in Logan's eyes Hank could see something just as powerful as their physical connection and infinitely more imposing. He shut his own quickly, but the expression of desire on his lover's face draped itself over the inside of his eyelids.

Logan continued to ease slowly in and out, taking it slow as if Hank was a virginal schoolgirl and not a six-foot tall fighter. For his part, Hank just tried to breathe and relax. The research he'd done had told him that much. It was hard because his body was so separate from his mind in a way that he'd never felt before. It just wanted Logan out, seeing the penis as an intruder. Hank's mind wanted Logan in until there would be no differentiation between the two of them, until those strong feelings wouldn't be scary anymore.

The bed creaked beneath them. It was a soft sighing sound that synchronized with each apex of pressure that Hank felt inside. It wasn't painful, at least not yet, but it was difficult to stay relaxed. He kept expecting the pain to come.

Logan's tongue brushed against his cheek and his eyes jolted open at the sensation. Logan was half smiling at him. "Where are you, Fuzzy?"

Again Hank thought of words to say that he didn't think he was capable of speaking. The motion around his lower half wasn't stopping, wasn't worsening, and that handsome face was looking at him with pleasured concern. Each nerve of his body was erupting like a chemical reaction had been set off and it made him want to weep or orgasm or both. "Trying not to drown."

He only had time to regret speaking for a second before Logan's lips came down onto his own. They were warm and tempting, teasing. The tongue that had licked his cheek now poked at his own, encouraging oral sparring. It stopped the mental battle, if only briefly, and Hank felt his penis twitch.

Logan re-adjusted himself, leaning his upper body back to get some of his weight off Hank. He laughed, a low sexy chuckle. "You say that, but you ain't even hard."

A quick glance down proved Logan's statement. He wasn't erect, but not for a lack of arousal. Was that normal?  It wasn’t like he needed an erection for his part in this amazing activity. “It feels… I think it feels good.”

Worry freckled Logan’s eyes. “You think? Fuck, I’m not doing it right.” He pulled himself out.

The warm, hard, sensitizing width of Logan leaving so abruptly made Hank feel empty. Without intending to, he mewled, a sound of submissive protest. His wide eyes met Logan’s. “Don’t… leave.”

Logan’s teeth chewed on his lip as he thought. The blatant concern warmed Hank though not nearly as much as Logan sliding back inside him. He shuddered. That was better, so much better. “How do I get you hard?” asked Logan.

“I don’t think I need to be.”

“But…” It was hard to think because by instinct Logan was still shifting smoothly back and forth. Words were not usually an area of difficulty for Hank. “Want to make sure this is good for you too, Fuzzy.”

“It’s intense.” Understatement of the year. Even the nerve endings of his fingertips felt jolted by the motions of Logan’s hips. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Logan growled. “Not used to being bad in bed. I swear, I’ll be better next time.”

Hank moaned, from the words (he was already thinking about next time) or the sensation. It wasn’t so much that he was feeling less, because he wasn’t, but it was becoming less overwhelming. He was anticipating the strokes, anticipating where they would stop and when they would start again. It was feeling good. He realized that the pain was not going to come, that this was as “bad” as it would get. In response to the revelation, he laughed.  

Logan’s eyebrow demanded an explanation. “It feels good,” Hank breathed.

Now it was Logan’s turn to laugh. “It’s supposed to.”

Hank nibbled on the strong sinewy neck. “Do it harder, Logan.” He wanted to know what harder felt like. His teeth were clenching when Logan pushed up firmly inside him, bottoming out, and still he squeaked.

“Fuck,” said Logan eloquently.

“More.” His fingers could not get enough of Logan’s ass. His body could not get enough of Logan’s cock. Every molecule was greedy, calling out his lover’s name and demanding more.

Logan ground into him deeply and slowly. Hank felt like a fire being stoked. His insides quivered, a strange pressure building inside of him. He gasped. “Logan.”

“Mmm, say my name again.”

Hank could feel the smile against his ear. He could also feel the cock moving faster in and halfway out of him. He whined a little before saying Logan’s name again, as requested.

Logan’s movements stopped suddenly. He panted. “I, um, I gotta take a break or I’m gonna…”

They looked at each other. Hank did not know that he had ever wanted so badly for his lover to orgasm. He would feel it and, dear god, if Logan hadn’t been wearing a condom, it would stay inside him. “Please don’t stop.” He added “Logan,” since the man seemed to respond so well to it.

Logan growled and kissed him, hips crashing hard against him. The speed coupled with the depth was again overpowering to Hank’s senses. He felt nearly on the edge of fainting, stars hitting the back of his eyelids each time he took in Logan all the way. He held onto Logan’s back, along for the ride, barely a participant because his mind had snapped too much for him to move. Hank could hear himself repeating “please” over and over and he finally had to bite down on his lower lip to stop. What was happening to him? The phrase ‘coming undone’ floated through his mind.

With a final growl of possessive pleasure, Logan came. He rode the waves, jerking unsteadily against Hank’s ass. Logan’s head rested on his chest, the sweat from his hair dripping down onto Hank’s fur.

It had been glorious.

Once Logan’s breathing evened, he promised, “I’ll get better.”

 “Not sure I could take it being better.”

They both giggled in raspy, sexed out voices. This was what having a friend for a lover was. It was sex _and_ laughter, passion _and_ comfort.  

Logan sat up, legs straddling Hank’s, his cock already out of Hank’s body through natural deflation. A smirk graced his handsome lips. “Alright, I’ve never done this and I probably won’t be very good, so bear with me.” Then his head lowered to between Hank’s wobbly legs.

The myriad of feelings – shame that he wasn’t erect, surprise and excitement that Logan was willing to perform fellatio upon him – fluttered away as his limp but interested cock was caught up in a swirl of warmth and wetness.

He could have recognized Logan’s mouth by the feeling alone. They had kissed so many times now that even his penis knew that tongue. He needn’t have worried about his erection for it immediately began to enlarge, like one of the snake fireworks that curl slowly upwards. He moaned.

Logan noted, with an abundance of amusement in his voice, “Now we’re talking.” His head bobbed roughly on the now firm cock.

It felt good, of course, but the speed and the exaggeration of the movement was a bit too much. “Too much,” he whispered, anxious that his input would make Logan feel insecure. He should have known better.

“Sorry, going off porn; rookie mistake.”

Hank laughed. “Stick with what you like, Logan.”

“Ah, in that case…” said Logan. He took Hank’s entire length into his mouth and his wonderfully talented fingers caressed Hank’s balls.

It made Hank groan. He shivered. Such lovely sensations that he didn’t care if Logan ever breathed again so long as his mouth stayed right where it was.

Logan’s throat made a squelching noise and he pulled off Hank’s cock. He coughed. “Damn, women make this look so easy.” He looked up at Hank, trying to see how bad of a job he was doing. He was encouraged by Hank’s glazed over eyes and swollen lips. He returned to what he was doing, pulling as much of the swollen dick into his mouth as he could. His fingers roamed further back from Hank’s balls, moving to the delightful hole he’d just been buried in.

Hank’s moan coincided with a twitch in his cock. Logan would have smiled if he didn’t have his mouth full. His index and middle finger slid inside, the path already slick with lubricant. “Logan!” Hank cried.

He moved his other hand onto the cock’s base, squeezing upwards until his fist collided with his lips sliding down from the head. Hank was getting louder, closer. Logan’s own erection, so recently sated, reappeared as though it had reinforcements. A wicked thought went through his mind and, as so often happened with Logan, he immediately set the wicked thought into action.

Hank wanted to protest about Logan’s mouth leaving his cock unattended, but he didn’t because he saw Logan reaching for the box of condoms again. What would it be like now that he too was hard? He didn’t have to wait long to find out, because after some additional lubricant, Logan was back inside him. This time Hank knew it wouldn’t hurt, knew that it would feel good. “Logan….” he sighed.

When Logan’s hand reached down and took hold of his cock, Hank wanted to cry with happiness. He loved this, the feeling of his lover buried deep inside of him with the electric tingle of his cock’s nerve endings being titillated. He whimpered.

“Fuck Hank, you feel amazing,” said Logan.

Naughty words said with such sweet reverence. Hank’s back arched. He wanted his orgasm, wanted Logan to fuck it out of him. Again that ‘please’ word fell from his lips, over and over like a religious psalm. He ached with need, enflamed by the buffeting of Logan’s hips and the stroking of his penis. The “please” was becoming higher, whinier.

“I’m inside of you,” whispered Logan. So, he had understood!

Hank’s insides quivered, he felt his balls tighten, felt his limps stiffen and shake. When he came it was unstoppable and enormous. He bucked his hips and Logan grabbed underneath them, pulling him upwards, closer to the pleasure, to that trigger. “Logan!” he cried, the semen shooting between them.

Logan gasped as his cock was clenched so tightly that it was actually too tight, his lover’s hungry body insatiable, working his cock for all it was worth.

The jerking of Hank’s body lasted for nearly a half minute as the longest-lasting orgasm of his life overwhelmed every one of his senses. Logan stayed firm and still inside him. He looked up into Logan’s eyes and exhaled loudly, the orgasm finally ending.

“Mmm,” Hank said stupidly.

Logan laughed. “High praise from such an intellectual,” he joked.

Feeling it was a good time, he pulled out of Hank who made a wooshing noise in response to the change. He flipped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Logan felt proud of himself. He raised up his arms so that his head was laying back on his hands.

“Where’s my cigarette?” asked Hank.

“What?”

“As I understood it, I was to be smoking after you had your way with me.” Hank laughed at how long it took Logan to remember. When he did, they were both laughing, the humor of the post-orgasmic an easy thing to ignite.

* * *

 

“You mind if I sleep a bit?” asked Rogue.

Logan didn’t mind being her chauffeur. “Nah.”

He tried to keep an eye on the road as she climbed over the passenger seat and into the back. He’d be a pretty shitty chauffeur if he got into an accident while she wasn’t buckled up. Once she got back there, he wriggled out of his leather jacket and tossed it back to her.

“This stinks!” she complained.

“Fine, don’t take it then.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want it!” She curled up in a fetal position with the jacket draped across her as a blanket.

Logan grunted. “Women…”

She didn’t bother to respond to him and he suspected that she was already thinking about what life back at the mansion would hold for her. Maybe she’d start teaching there now. Rogue hadn’t exactly been clear about her intentions. All he knew was that she was back and that was good enough for him.

He smiled at the lump in the backseat.

‘Looking forward to getting’ back home myself, Kiddo,’ he thought to himself. He’d thought “home” not “school” or mansion.” He pictured Hank, glasses at the edge of his nose looking at him like he was the biggest moron on the planet, and lining up a pool shot like a surgeon ready to cut, and swinging from branch to branch like a rabid gorilla, and finally, beneath him and looking up at him with awe, like he was a god or something. That was the moment when realized that sometimes home wasn’t a place but a person.

           

                       


End file.
